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A PLAY


BY



ALEXANDER   K   OPICHO









THE CASTE
1. Chenje – Old man, father of Namugugu
2. Namugugu – Son of Chenje
3. Nanyuli – daughter of Lusaaka
4. Lusaaka – Old man, father of Nanyuli
5. Kulecho – wife of Lusaaka
6. Kuloba – wife of Chenje
7. Paulina – Old woman, neighbour to Chenje.
8. Child I, II and III – Nanyuli’s children
9. Policeman I, II and III
10. Mourners
11. Wangwe – a widowed village pastor

















ACTING HISTORY
This play was acted two times, on 25th and 26th December 2004 at Bokoli Roman Catholic Church, in Bokoli sub- location of Bungoma County in the western province of Kenya. The persons who acted and their respective roles are as below;

Wenani Kilong –stage director
Alexander k Opicho – Namugugu
Judith Sipapali Mutivoko- Nanyuli
Saul Sampaza Mazika Khayongo- Wangwe
Paul Lenin Maondo- Lusaaka
Peter Wajilontelela-  Chenje
Agnes Injila -  Kulecho
Beverline Kilobi- Paulina
Milka Molola Kitayi- Kuloba
Then mourners, children and police men changed roles often. This play was successfully stage performed and stunned the community audience to the helm.













PLOT
Language use in this play is not based on Standard English grammar, but is flexed to mirror social behaviour and actual life as well as assumptions of the people of Bokoli village in Bungoma district now Bungoma County in Western province of Kenya.

























ACT ONE
Scene One

This scene is set in Bokoli village of Western Kenya. In Chenje’s peasant hut, the mood is sombre. Chenje is busy thrashing lice from his old long trouser Kuloba, sitting on a short stool looking on.

Chenje: (thrashing a louse) these things are stubborn! The lice. You **** all of them today, and then tomorrow they are all-over. I hate them.
Kuloba: (sending out a cloud of smoke through her tobacco laden pipe). Nowadays I am tired. I have left them to do to me whatever they want (coughs) I killed them they were all over in my skirt.
Chenje: (looking straight at Kuloba) Do you know that they are significant?
Kuloba: What do they signify?
Chenje: Death
Kuloba: Now, who will die in this home? I have only one son. Let them stop their menace.
Chenje: I remember in 1968, two months that preceded my father’s death, they were all over. The lice were in every of my piece of clothes. Even the hat, handkerchief. I tell you what not!
Kuloba: (nodding), Yaa! I remember it very well my mzee, I had been married for about two years by then.
Chenje: Was it two years?
Kuloba: (assuringly) yes, (spots a cockroach on the floor goes at it and crushes it with her finger, then coughs with heavy sound) we had stayed together in a marriage for two years. That was when people had began back-biting me that I was barren. We did not have a child. We even also had the jiggers. I can still remember.
Chenje: Exactly (crashes a louse with his finger) we also had jiggers on our feet.
Kuloba: The jiggers are very troublesome. Even more than the lice and weevils.  
Chenje: But, the lice and jiggers, whenever they infest one’s home, they usually signify impending death of a family member.
Kuloba: Let them fail in Christ’s name. Because no one is ripe for death in this home. I have lost my five children. I only have one child. My son Namugugu – death let it fail. My son has to grow and have a family also like children of other people in this village. Let whoever that is practicing evil machinations against my family, my only child fail.
Chenje: (putting on the long-trouser from which he had been crushing lice) let others remain; I will **** them another time.
Kuloba: You will never finish them (giggles)
Chenje: You have reminded me, where is Namugugu today? I have not seen him.
Kuloba: He was here some while ago.
Chenje: (spitting out through an open window) He has become of an age. He is supposed to get married so that he can bear grand children for me. Had I the grand children they could even assist me to **** lice from my clothes. (Enters Namugugu) Come in boy, I want to talk to you.
Kuloba: (jokingly) you better give someone food, or anything to fill the stomach before you engages him in a talk.
Namugugu: (looks, at both Chenje and Kuloba, searchingly then goes for a chair next to him)
Mama! I am very hungry if you talk of feeding me, I really get thrilled (sits at a fold-chair, it breaks sending him down in a sprawl).
Kuloba: (exclaims) wooo! Sorry my son. This chair wants to **** (helps him up)
Namugugu: (waving his bleeding hand as he gets up) it has injured my hand. Too bad!
Chenje: (looking on) Sorry! Dress your finger with a piece of old clothes, to stop that blood oozing out.
Namugugu: (writhing in pain) No it was not a deep cut. It will soon stop bleeding even without a piece of rag.
Kuloba: (to Namugugu) let it be so. (Stands) let me go to my sweet potato field. There are some vivies, I have not harvested, I can get there some roots for our lunch (exits)
Chenje: (to Namugugu) my son even if you have injured your finger, but that will not prevent me from telling you what I am supposed to.
Namugugu: (with attention) yes.
Chenje: (pointing) sit to this other chair, it is safer than that one of yours.
Namugugu: (changing the chair) Thank you.
Chenje: You are now a big person. You are no longer an infant. I want you to come up with your own home. Look for a girl to marry. Don’t wait to grow more than here. The two years you have been in Nairobi, were really wasted. You could have been married, may you would now be having my two grand sons as per today.
Namugugu: Father I don’t refuse. But how can I marry and start up a family in a situation of extreme poverty? Do you want me to start a family with even nothing to eat?
Chenje: My son, you will be safer when you are a married beggar than a wife- less rich-man. No one is more exposed as a man without a wife.
Namugugu: (looking down) father it is true but not realistic.
Chenje: How?
Namugugu: All women tend to flock after a rich man.
Chenje: (laughs) my son, may be you don’t know. Let me tell you. One time you will remember, maybe I will be already dead by then. Look here, all riches flock after married men, all powers of darkness flock after married men and even all poverty flock after married. So, it is just a matter of living your life.
(Curtains)
SCENE TWO

Around Chenje’s hut, Kuloba and Namugugu are inside the hut; Chenje is out under the eaves. He is dropping at them.
Namugugu: Mama! Papa wants to drive wind of sadness permanently into my sail of life. He is always pressurizing me to get married at such a time when I totally have nothing. No food, no house no everything. Mama let me actually ask you; is it possible to get married in such a situation?
Kuloba: (Looking out if there is any one, but did not spot the eaves-dropping Chenje).
Forget. Marriage is not a Whiff of aroma. My son, try marriage in poverty and you will see.
Namugugu: (Emotionally) Now, if Papa knows that I will not have a happy married life, in such a situation, where I don’t have anything to support myself; then why is he singing for my marriage?
Kuloba: (gesticulating) He wants to mess you up the way he messed me up. He married me into his poverty. I have wasted away a whole of my life in his poverty. I regret. You! (Pointing) my son, never make a mistake of neither repeating nor replicating poverty of this home into your future through blind marriage.
Namugugu: (Approvingly) yes Mama, I get you.

Kuloba: (Assertively) moreover, you are the only offspring of my womb             (touching her stomach) I have never eaten anything from you. You have never bought me anything even a headscarf alone. Now, if you start with a wife will I ever benefit anything from you?
Namugugu: (looking agog) indeed Mama.
Kuloba: (commandingly) don’t marry! Women are very many. You can marry at any age, any time or even any place. But it is very good to remember child-price paid by your mother in bringing you up. As a man my son, you have to put it before all other things in your life.
Namugugu: (in an affirmative feat) yes Mama.
Kuloba: It is not easy to bring up a child up to an age when in poverty. As a mother you really suffer. I’ve suffered indeed to bring you up. Your father has never been able to put food on the table. It has been my burden through out. So my son, pleased before you go for women remember that!
Namugugu: Yes Mama, I will.
(Enters Chenje)
Chenje: (to Kuloba) you old wizard headed woman! Why do you want to put    my home to a full stop?
Kuloba: (shy) why? You mean you were not away? (Goes out behaving shyly)

Chenje: (in anger to Namugugu) you must become a man! Why do you give your ears to such toxic conversations? Your mother is wrong. Whatever she has told you today is pure lies. It is her laziness that made her poor. She is very wrong to festoon me in any blame…. I want you to think excellently as a man now. Avoid her tricky influence and get married. I have told you finally and I will never repeat telling you again.

Namugugu: (in a feat of shyness) But Papa, you are just exploding for no good reason, Mama has told me nothing bad……………………
Chenje: (Awfully) shut up! You old ox. Remove your ears from poisonous mouths of old women!
(Enters Nanyuli with an old green paper bag in her hand. Its contents were bulging).
Nanyuli: (knocking) Hodii! Hodii!
Chenje: (calmly) come in my daughter! Come in.
Nanyuli: (entering) thank you.
Chenje: (to Namugugu) give the chair to our visitor.
Namugugu: (shyly, paving Nanyuli to sit) Karibu, have a sit please.
Nanyuli: (swinging girlishly) I will not sit me I am in a hurry.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) just sit for a little moment my daughter. Kindly sit.
Nanyuli: (sitting, putting a paper-bag on her laps) where is the grandmother who is usually in this house?
Chenje: Who?
Nanyuli: Kuloba, the old grandmother.
Namugugu: She has just briefly gone out.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) she has gone to the potato field and Cassava field to look for some roots for our lunch.
Nanyuli: Hmm. She will get.
Chenje: Yes, it is also our prayer. Because we’re very hungry.
Nanyuli: I am sure she will get.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) excuse me my daughter; tell me who your father is?
Nanyuli: (shyly) you mean you don’t know me? And me I know you.
Chenje: Yes I don’t know you. Also my eyes have grown old, unless you remind
me, I may not easily know you.
Nanyuli: I am Lusaaka’s daughter
Chenje: Eh! Which Lusaka? The one with a brown wife? I don’t know… her name is Kulecho?
Nanyuli: Yes
Chenje: That brown old-mother is your mother?
Nanyuli: Yes, she is my mother. I am her first – born.
Chenje: Ooh! This is good (goes forward to greet her) shake my fore-limb my
daughter.

Nanyuli: (shaking Chenje’s hand) Thank you.
Chenje: I don’t know if your father has ever told you. I was circumcised the same year with your grand-gather. In fact we were cut by the same knife. I mean we shared the same circumciser.
Nanyuli: No, he has not yet. You know he is always at school. He never stays at home.
Chenje: That is true. I know him, he teaches at our mission primary school at Bokoli market.
Nanyuli: Yes.
Chenje: What is your name my daughter?
Nanyuli: My name is Loisy Nanyuli Lusaaka.
Chenje: Very good. They are pretty names. Loisy is a Catholic baptismal name, Nanyuli is our Bukusu tribal name meaning wife of an iron-smith and Lusaaka is your father’s name.
Nanyuli: (laughs) But I am not a Catholic. We used to go to Catholic Church upto last year December. But we are now born again, saved children of God. Fellowshipping with the Church of Holy Mountain of Jesus christ. It is at Bokoli market.
Chenje: Good, my daughter, in fact when I will happen to meet with your father, or even your mother the brown lady, I will comment them for having brought you up under the arm of God.
Nanyuli: Thank you; or even you can as well come to our home one day.
Chenje: (laughs) actually, I will come.
Nanyuli: Now, I want to go
Chenje: But you have not stayed for long. Let us talk a little more my daughter.
Nanyuli: No, I will not. I had just brought some tea leaves for Kuloba the old grandmother.
Chenje: Ooh! Who gave you the tea leaves?
Nanyuli: I do hawk tea leaves door to door. I met her last time and she requested me to bring her some. So I want to give them to you (pointing at Namugugu) so that you can give them to her when she comes.
Namugugu: No problem. I will.
Nanyuli: (takes out a tumbler from the paper bag, fills the tumbler twice, pours the tea leaves  into an old piece of  newspaper, folds and gives  it to Namugugu) you will give them to grandmother, Kuloba.
Namugugu: (taking) thank you.
Chenje: My daughter, how much is a tumbler full of tea leaves, I mean when it is full?
Nanyuli: Ten shillings of Kenya
Chenje: My daughter, your price is good. Not like others.
Nanyuli: Thank you.
Namugugu: (To Nanyuli) What about money, she gave you already?
Nanyuli: No, but tell her that any day I may come for it.
Namugugu: Ok, I will not forget to tell her
Nanyuli: I am thankful. Let me go, we shall meet another day.
Chenje: Yes my daughter, pass my regards to your father.
Nanyuli: Yes I will (goes out)
Chenje: (Biting his finger) I wish I was a boy. Such a good woman would never slip through my fingers.
Chenje: But father she is already a tea leaves vendor!
(CURTAINS)


SCENE THREE
Nanyuli and Kulecho in a common room Nanyuli and Kulecho are standing at the table, Nanyuli is often suspecting a blow from Kulecho, counting coins from sale of tea leaves; Lusaaka is sited at couch taking a coffee from a ceramic red kettle.


Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) these monies are not balancing with your stock. It is like you have sold more tea leaves but you have less money. This is only seventy five shillings. When it is supposed to be one hundred and fifty. Because you sold fifteen tumblers you are only left with five tumblers.
Nanyuli: (Fidgeting) this is the whole money I have, everything I collected from sales is here.
Kulecho: (heatedly) be serious, you stupid woman! How can you sell everything and am not seeing any money?
Nanyuli: Mama, this is the whole money I have, I have not taken your money anywhere.
Kulecho: You have not taken the money anywhere! Then where is it? Do you know that I am going to slap you!
Nanyuli: (shaking) forgive me Mama
Kulecho: Then speak the truth before you are forgiven. Where is the money you collected from tea leaves sales?
Nanyuli: (in a feat of shyness) some I bought a short trouser for my child.
Kulecho: (very violent) after whose permission? You old cow, after whose permission (slaps Nanyuli with her whole mighty) Talk out!
Nanyuli: (Sobbingly) forgive me mother, I thought you would understand. That is why I bought a trouser for my son with your money!
Lusaaka: (shouting a cup of coffee in his hand, standing charged) teach her a lesson, slap her again!
Kulecho (slaps, Nanyuli continuously, some times ******* her cheeks, as Nanyuli wails) Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! You lousy, irresponsible Con-woman (clicks)
Lusaaka: Are you tired, kick the *** out of that woman (inveighs a slap towards Nanyuli) I can slap you!
Nanyuli: (kneeling, bowedly, carrying up her hands) forgive me father, I will never repeat that mistake again (sobs)
Lusaaka: An in-corrigible, ****!
Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) You! Useless heap of human flesh. I very much regret to have sired a sell-out of your type. It is very painful for you to be a first offspring of my womb.
I curse my womb because of you. You have ever betrayed me. I took you to school you were never thankful, instead you became pregnant. You were fertilized in the bush by peasant boys.
You have given birth to three childlings, from three different fathers! You do it in my home. What a shame! Your father is a teacher, how have you made him a laughing stock among his colleagues, teachers? I have become sympathetic to you by putting you into business. I have given you tea leaves to sell. A very noble occupation for a wretch like you. You only go out sell tea leaves and put the money in your wolfish stomach. Nanyuli! Why do you always act like this?
Nanyuli: (sobbing) Forgive me mother. Some tea leaves I sold on credit. I will come with the money today?
Kulecho: You sold on credit?
Nanyuli: Yes
Kul
this is a manuscript of a play, please guys help me get any publisher who can do publishing of this play
i  will appreciate. thanks
World War Three

Hot wars aren’t effective — they fail to erase,
Too few of the people depart from this place.
And the costs are annoying — too messy, too slow
For the ****** who started this genocidal show.

That ghoul of destruction, who plans our collapse,
Who dreams of our ruin, and cackles, perhaps.
A Demon, a Maniac — not men, but pure ****
He recruited as hounds, barking “****!” at his drum.

The first step of this war: contamination —
Toxins in food as a planned operation.
The goal — generations of dumb and insane,
All trapped in illusions and drooling in pain.

For idiots die when you feed them a lie,
First scare them to panic, then kiss them goodbye.
The lie? A fake virus. The truth? Just a jab —
And the chaos is cleansed like filth from a slab.

To fuel this collapse of the world's ugly mess,
Let’s roast their poor brains with a Five-G caress.
Just "signal," they say — but the damage is clear:
You’ll cough out your lungs as it fries your last gear.

Then — chemtrails as weapons, sprayed high in the sky:
Even the strongest will choke, bleed, and die.
And “disinfection” will steam through the air —
Poison the trusting with perfumed despair.

Next — protocols for “healing,” all tweaked:
Even those who recovered — we’ll strike while they’re weak.
From old simple sickness, we'll craft a new blow —
One shot to the chest, and down they will go.

But the kingpin’s the test — it’s deceit in disguise:
You can’t **** them all without blinding their eyes.
We don’t give a **** if bananas test “hot,” —
A virus, you say? We'll say what is what.

We practiced this trick with the legend of AIDS —
Fake tests, real poison — the dead in cascades.
It forged a new Medicine, sinister-bright,
Like SS in scrubs — the same lust for the blight.

And we must place our traitors in all of the halls —
Install them in power, behind all the walls.
They search for the beasts who look human, but lack
Even hints of a soul — they smile, but attack.

They breed these vile creatures — a weapon refined,
Then push them to rise as they bribe and bind.
With rumors of virtue, they tighten the noose,
While keeping them leashed — no chance of a truce.

Demon, subhuman, and filth — that’s the trinity
Dragging the world to a slaughter divinity.
They’ve turned Earth to Hell, and the battle is lost —
We pay for our blindness. They’re counting the cost.

But the few who remain — there’s one path to embrace:
Call down the Sun’s fire — burn out this disgrace.
No matter the pain, or the fear in our chest,
Take demons with us — and give them no rest.

All subhumans will perish, and we shall return,
As Spirit awakened — let falsehoods all burn!
Death is a rumor, a trap they designed,
A lie for control — a chain for the mind.



---------------------




1.
They poison, they burn, they inject us with lies —
Then mourn the “deceased” with dead, plastic eyes.

2.
A jab, a lie, a Five-G beam —
Welcome, fool, to the butcher’s dream.

3.
The Demon smiles — the cattle kneel.
Their death is called “the greater heal.”

4.
Call down the fire, no mercy, no pause —
Burn down the beast with its venomous laws.

5.
The final war is waged through screens —
With syringes, freaks, and toxic genes.



---------------------



The Human Malfunction

A few crude parts in a rigid routine —
That’s the machine of this world, obscene.
We glimpse it all in a flash of light —
In moments of Truth. And They are the Might.

The driving force? Some hollow themes,
That shape this circus of walking dreams.
Hell, it seems, is the global plan —
Or a madhouse ruled by the idiot clan.

"You're just a body" — that's the key.
Scare them enough — and the world bows to thee.
This filthy beast has played this game
Till the Earth itself forgot its name.

Images empty, choices thin,
Stupid thoughts spinning within.
While anxiety rips through every soul —
The beast fights ***** — that's its role.

Same stupid thoughts — like a looped cassette,
Repeat till the brain’s a soaking net.
And so the "hard worker" rules by dread —
Running from truths that scream in his head.

Clutter your mind with mindless grime —
Escape the thought of your measured time,
Of the filthy larva that sets your fate —
And thus, the child learns to obey hate.

And grown-up kids — they march in hell,
Proud little scouts, taught to rebel
Against themselves by school and job,
While the zombie-screen begins to throb.

The worst of all weapons in this vile range
Is the one that makes good minds deranged.
You'll get no truth — just sly deceit
From demons smiling in your seat.

It's all fake thoughts and scattered lies,
A whirl of shards before your eyes.
The mad kaleidoscope never stops —
The filth spins faster till reason drops.

Schizophrenia. Dumbed-down brains.
The system runs on toxic chains.
Food is poisoned — so they erode
Faster and cleaner. Just give it a load.

Fake science paints this plastic realm,
With devils high upon the helm.
And Spirit erased from the master's frame —
The world became a latrine of shame.

For morons they built their holy fraud —
Religion absurd, insulting God.
Official chains on Spirit’s neck —
It’s nearly killed in this mental wreck.

Lies rule here — lies are grace,
They’re sold as progress in your face.
But Hell, not "spiritual trial", is this —
Few survive such an abyss.

“Smart” folks tinker with dead ideas,
Shifting blame to fake frontiers.
The beast must always redirect
To new scapegoats — that’s the trick.

It rules through splits, through made-up foes,
It plants division and reaps our woes.
It aims to rot the Spirit’s root —
And if we sleep — it bears no fruit.

So step outside this loop of pain.
Go inward first — through fire and strain.
Only with Truth can these plagues be healed —
The coming battle has not been sealed.

The beast is the enemy. Search for the key
To wipe this horror from all we see.
If all were in Spirit — it wouldn’t be hard.
Strengthen the Spirit. Stand on guard.



---------------------




1.
You're not a soul — just meat, they preach.
Then sell you fear. Then pull the switch.

2.
Lies spin fast in the circus of pain.
The beast calls that “a human brain.”

3.
Truth is the weapon. Spirit — the shield.
Without that fire, the world must yield.



---------------------



"Ideologies" — So-Called

These filthy “ideologies” we’re fed,
Were born from Satan’s twisted head.
They rule dumb flocks with puppet strings —
All nations fake — all fascist things.

There is a center. One dark hive,
Where every “ism” comes alive.
Their main agenda, through and through:
To castrate Souls — erase the True.

To do that, “knowledge” must be chained,
And fake “science” globally ingrained.
The Holy Spirit — gagged and torn,
The sacred gap now grows forlorn

Between what’s real — the Spirit’s flame,
And this fake world — a shadow-game.
Evil wins without one blade —
Just press of lies — and truth will fade.

Next step? Invent a newspeak tongue:
“We’re slaves to words,” said Marx once young.
It storms the mind — a brutal blast —
Until the Purest Flame won’t last.

Then numbers, metrics, “facts” galore —
Ram them down throats forevermore.
Their verbal circus, cold and sly,
Becomes the blade we live and die.

Charts, equations, pseudo-claims —
A flood of **** in data frames.
With just one gang, the world they choke —
Each “country” just a running joke.

Divide the masses, turn them wild —
Each “ideology” defiled.
They feed the mob with myths and slime —
Just whispered suggestions dressed as “mind.”

Language itself is their device,
If all foundations melt like ice.
You are a Soul — a willful breath —
Forget that truth, you march to death.

Round and round in the wheel you spin —
The system grinds your blood and skin.
Two worlds as one — both crush and flay,
Till you’re a beast with thought stripped away.

School’s been crafted by this plague —
A killing belt for soul and spark.
They mask it all with laughs and gags,
And myths of “errors” in the dark.

The worms dig deep, they drain your core,
Then toss your husk onto the floor.
And husks walk proud, with zeal they serve
The super-slavery they preserve.

The lies grow louder — now complete.
They flood the ears with sewer heat.
Only one force runs this domain —
Infernal Rule, and devil’s chain.

If you were yourself, you’d hear your soul —
Its call, its fire, would take control.
But lies infect the spirit’s well,
With “holy” chains that smell like Hell.

From speech-reality to virtual void —
One step. Then all that's true destroyed.
And with it dies what can't be typed —
That deeper channel, wordless, wiped.

This war is final — total burn.
It’s raging now. It's your turn.
Break from this beast’s degrading mold —
Stand up, resist, and fight — be bold!



---------------------




1.
They **** your mind with "noble goals" —
While slaughtering your inner Soul.

2.
Fake “truth,” fake “words,” fake “schools,” fake “light” —
The Beast calls all that “human right.”

3.
The final war is not with steel —
They **** your Spirit — make you kneel.

4.
One language, one lie, one global cage —
And you're the product of their rage.

5.
The Soul they neuter, truth they gut —
Then praise you for obeying shut.



---------------------



The Kingdom of Twisted Mirrors

A world distorted, a camp designed
To cage the soul and chain the mind —
A trap without the cheese or grace,
That holds us ‘til the end of days.

This Camp is ruled by subtle chains,
By sticky lies and ghostly pains.
Betrayal blooms, and filth is king —
They’ll **** you cheap for anything.

Their “education” trains you to kneel,
It kills your fire, breaks your will.
Fake science poisons thought and eye —
The soulless fool believes the lie.

They teach you “theories” masked as fact,
While faith is warped and truth attacked.
Religion turned to sabotage —
A bombing run on Spirit's charge.

The press? It screams distorted news,
Half-baked, hysteric, soaked in ooze.
It strengthens this unholy lie
And stokes up fear until we fry.

Propaganda’s foul, insane —
To keep the flock forever lame.
They steal the last of human joy
By feeding fear — their favorite ploy.

Politics? A rotten play.
The “opposition” feeds the fray
From the same trough as those in charge —
Who wins the vote? A circus march.

“Survival modes” are pre-designed,
Imposed like “laws” to numb the mind.
This social stress destroys the nerves,
Then blames the soul it never serves.

Nonsense floods in every stream —
You flail and drown inside the dream.
The monsters rule this foul terrain,
Where every hour oozes pain.

They need to coat your life in fear,
Until your light just disappears.
You slowly rot — a lifeless clod —
And call that ash heap “life” or “God.”

Violence? Just backup fuel
To keep the slaves forever cruel.
But most obey — their minds are ****,
And ruled by fear they won't admit.

For those who rise — the bright, the brave —
There’s force to crush and dig their grave.
Their efforts lost, their fire dimmed —
The slave’s been wired to stay unlinked.

No rebel now can build the tool
To overthrow this fascist rule.
All thought has dulled, the lights grow faint —
The minds are weak, the wills too quaint.

Degradation’s everywhere —
The wise are rare, stripped raw and bare.
Corruption reigns. The Spirit’s gone.
And traitors multiply at dawn.

Yet sellouts thrive in every hole —
Like ****** of every filthy role.
And thinner grows that sacred thread
Of Souls not bought, not wholly dead.

A human is a will, a flame —
Not some obedient, hamstered shame.
But lunatics don’t feel the cage,
They spin inside it, drunk with rage.

Survival, fear — that’s for the vile.
It doesn’t suit the thinking style.
So the agenda, all refined,
Is crafting freaks from humankind.

This Camp turned Madhouse, soaked in blood —
The genocide left scars and mud.
Now ***** walks through shattered doors —
Collapse complete. The final score.

This all belongs in History’s Pit —
In fire, in trash — just burn the ****.
No mercy left, no hope, no balm —
Just rot, decay, and toxic calm.

The Sun itself will stoke this flame —
The fire is coming — set to maim.
And fifty years ago, Some One
Pressed a dark switch and said: “We’re done.”



---------------------




1.
No cheese. Just chains.
And fear injected into brains.

2.
Truth is dead. The freaks applaud.
The madhouse crowned itself as God.

3.
They sell you fear, then sell your soul —
And call that process "civil goal."

4.
Education kills the spark.
Religion strikes the Spirit dark.

5.
Camp. Madhouse. *****. Flame.
One twisted system — same old game.



---------------------




1.
This ain’t a world — it’s a camp in disguise.
With walls made of lies and barbed-wire skies.

2.
No fences needed when minds are caged —
The Camp runs smooth, well-trained, enraged.

3.
They called it “life,” but built a cell —
And filled it with the tools of Hell.

4.
Work. Obey. Forget your name.
This is the Camp. This is the game.

5.
The map says “freedom,” the ground says “grave.”
It’s a prison in flesh — not a land for the brave.

6.
It ends not with chains, but a gentle smile —
The Camp is polite… and built to defile.

7.
A needle, a screen, and a scripted cheer —
The guards now laugh — and call it “care.”



---------------------



Survival

The main rule now is “survival” —
Through cowering, screened removal.
A contest rages in this sphere —
How to shove their filth in your ear.

How to dumb down your own herd,
To drive the Soul from its own bird.
They want subhumans — beasts that feed,
And bow to every filthy deed.

They scheme with countless tricks and lies,
Where memes replace all truths and skies.
Memes — a virus of the mind,
That eats your Spirit — leaves you blind.

Whole hordes of freaks create this slime,
They breed the mad, align the crime.
They turn us all into the herd,
To feed at troughs with silent word.

And you can **** with lies like these —
The "pandemic" showed how to seize.
Easy to **** with deceit's spear,
When every fool’s a pioneer.

The box that screams — believe it all!
Obey! Surrender! Take the fall!
The beasts then count their poison cheap —
With venom sown, the herd will sleep.

Inject the dumb with poison sweet,
Frighten with memes — they’ll bow, repeat.
They’ll gobble madness, neat and clean,
The virus of the psychotic scene.

You must invent a “problem” then,
And spread it fast among the men.
Then combat memes will hunt and **** —
To crush the minds, to break the will.

Because these beasts are all so base,
You’ll sink to that primitive place.
The wise will choke, resist, and spurn —
Into this universal burn.

A Hell for Mind and Spirit both —
This global mess, a poisoned growth.
Sold-out ****** breed endless cries —
Their psychovirus multiplies.

Soon drowned in noise and endless roar,
The world becomes that Hell once more.
This stench of lies, this rotten breath —
No barriers strong enough to death.

The point of no return is crossed —
The fascists grind us down and lost.
They drag the world into the mud,
With claws that tear, with jaws that flood.

.................
.................

But those who do not yield or break,
Their souls alive — for freedom’s sake —
Shall face the fiery, blazing gale
Of Sun’s hot wrath — the final hail.



---------------------




1.
They dumb us down, inject the lie —
Our spirits choke, but won’t comply.

2.
Memes and poison flood the brain —
The beast rules through fear and pain.

3.
Survival’s just a mask for chains —
A hell of lies that burns our veins.

4.
But those who fight, who won’t submit —
Will face the Sun’s last fiery hit.



---------------------




1.
When lies consume and shadows reign,
The final fire cleanses pain.

2.
From ash and smoke, the truth will rise —
A blazing storm against all lies.

3.
The Sun’s fierce wrath will scorch the night,
And burn away the death and blight.

4.
No cage survives the fiery flood —
The Spirit rises from the blood.



---------------------



Sandboxes

Slaves assigned to sandboxes,
Busy day and night — no rest.
Building castles out of sand,
Lost in futile, empty quests.

For their castles, paper pays —
Worthless scraps for health exchanged.
Yet the slave believes the trade —
“A fair exchange,” his mind arranged.

From childhood dumb and hungry —
The cross of generations’ grief.
Much more filth invades his brain —
The slave just feeds on false belief.

He loves his handouts most of all —
Cheap tricks, two-in-one deceit.
Two-in-one is crap and slime —
His diet’s been that crap to eat.

All is poisoned — food and drink,
Spirit crushed, mind locked away.
But instead of fight, he moans and shrinks —
Year by year, decay holds sway.

He envies only dumbed-down beasts,
Who sold their souls for scraps so thin.
And built a hellish, filthy mess —
A prison tight to trap us in.

For only madness will hold fast
This shattered world in cement cast.
The slave will fuel the insane feast —
Thus reigns the plague that won’t cease.

The wise few left must understand —
In sandbox waits the final sting.
Unite your strength, make your stand —
The final hour’s on the wing.



---------------------




1.
Slaves build castles made of sand,
Trading health for worthless hand.

2.
Poisoned food, a poisoned mind —
Trapped in madness, blind and blind.

3.
Madness binds the broken world,
While slaves’ bleak fate is slowly twirled.

4.
Last call’s coming — break the chain,
Or drown forever in the pain.



---------------------




1.
Hell’s prison built on lies and sand,
Where slaves are shackled, chained by hand.

2.
Trapped inside this fiery cell,
A living hell — a private hell.

3.
They forged the cage from pain and greed,
A hellish trap where none are freed.

4.
In this **** pit, the lost remain —
Forever bound in Hell’s domain.


---------------------



The Path

"Someone spotted fruit unripe, unripe,
Shook the tree — it fell, it fell...
Here’s a song of one who failed to ripe,
Who had a voice but did not tell."
— Vladimir Vysotsky, "Interrupted Flight," 1973


Don’t pity yourself — not once, not ever.
Seek Freedom’s Path; all else is never.
Though few remain — dull herds that roam —
We’ll break free from this beastly dome.

Fate here is trap and tangled strife,
You’re often lone — despair is rife.
Good efforts wasted, works undone —
This world’s a sewer — filth’s the sum.

That filth, disguised as “wisdom’s peak,”
Leads only to decline, so bleak.
Nature’s patience long since fled,
And God abandoned this foul shed.

Choose always paths where you resist the Evil,
In struggle, something’s won, no mere upheaval.
No effort wasted where the Fire burns —
The Spirit never from the Flame returns.

Strengthen your Spirit — fortresses rise
Where beasts can’t breach, no weak disguise.
That ****’s all base, devoid of soul,
Only Spirit rules the cosmic whole.

Develop intellect — reject all lies.
Mountains of deceit before your eyes.
Test all you hear — don’t carry crosses blind —
Slaves bear burdens; free souls free their mind.

Slaves bear crosses, but Spirit’s lead
Lights up the one bright path ahead.
Though traitors swarm — vile beastly throng —
Stay far from them; they do no wrong.

Trust always your intuition’s call,
For mind without it is weak and small.
With it, destroy all fears and lies —
Intuition’s message Spirit supplies.

Find comrades wise and spiritually sound —
Others are dead, no life is found.
Diminish ego, or else you’ll see
Alone we’re weak, but joined we’re free.

There’s nothing here to praise, not even you —
This Hell incarnate — shame and filth in view.
So join the fight — last stand is near,
While Spirit’s flame burns bright and clear.

This battle’s not a brute assault,
No mindless charge or violent fault.
Seek out a way where Spirit’s might
Strikes with precision — sharp and light.

Let blows be subtle, not brute force —
Sharpen all skills for war’s harsh course.
You’re no weakling — Spirit makes you giant —
Cowards spin as hamsters, compliant.

Victory will be ours to claim,
When best unite to burn this flame.
The years of slavery disappear,
You’ll rise no longer bound by fear.



---------------------




1.
Don’t bow to fate, don’t waste your breath —
Fight for your Spirit, fight to death.

2.
The herd is dumb, the world is Hell —
Break chains, escape this cursed cell.

3.
Trust your gut — the mind alone
Is weak and lost, abandoned, thrown.

4.
The fight’s not brute, but sharp and true —
Spirit strikes — and cuts right through.

5.
Victory waits where brave unite —
To burn the years of slave’s night.



---------------------



Pre-Thoughts

Tastes and morals —
Like pre-thoughts —
Are poisons brewed:
The mind they rot.

And everything imposed —
Your own thoughts few and thin:
A dulled, obedient world —
No spark, no fire within.

So mind is sick and failing here —
If you don’t think alone,
You’ll need a “guru” to believe,
A master set in stone.

These “gurus” mass-produced,
Like lies they shove and sell.
Thus soullessness and filth abound —
Earth turned into Hell.

Morality’s a falsehood —
Slavery’s patience, all the rules.
Tastes imposed by ruling **** —
Desires trapped like hamsters’ fools.

Dumbing down’s the beastmen’s goal —
Trust nothing, that’s the creed.
Consumption’s sickness, lies abound —
Fascism feeds their greed.

Learn once more to think with courage,
Intuition’s path is true.
Though hardships pile like mountains vast —
At first, the world’s askew.

Strengthen Spirit — you’re Essence pure.
Forget all that you’ve known since youth.
All here is poisoned — even “need,”
And teachers? Dumb fools speaking untruth.



---------------------



Shipwreck

"That day the captain was called ‘you’ —
The skipper matched the young in skill,
Straightening backs and tearing binds,
Mad sailors raged along the hill."
— Vladimir Vysotsky, "Ballad of the Abandoned Ship," 1970

No captain here, but beasts in crew —
Exceptions rare in this foul fleet.
They won’t stand tall, won’t heal the wounds —
All lies, like drunks in vile defeat.

No minds remain — the dumbness storm
Has snapped the fragile “roofs” away.
Our ship leans hard — it’s nearly lost,
And rats among us run astray.

No sight of shores where free men dwell —
Ships run on fear and lies alone.
The whip’s the food that rulers sell,
Their power’s meal on grinding stone.

Those happy days have fled for good,
When purpose drove our every move.
Now lone we sail the raging flood —
The sea’s name is Decay’s dark groove.

We curse the weather, fate, and chance,
Distracted from our fatal role.
If so — soon all will lose the dance —
Like lambs, we march toward the knoll.

We lie as one, enabling vile,
Betraying all for empty gain.
We serve the horned Goat’s cruel smile,
And **** our souls to feed his reign.

Forgotten are the roots, the core:
You’re not a slave, but Spirit bright.
Like lambs to slaughter, goats implore —
Is this our bitter, woeful plight?

We cannot unite — just endless moan,
Our second name: the dirge, the groan.
In brains a fog, one blank erasure —
We’ve long since lost our own true nature.

The icons of dark Satanism
Are everywhere — the signs reveal.
On money’s cross we’re crucified —
False promises conceal the deal.

We teach our kids to lie with grace,
**** sparks of talent in their eyes.
We fill their minds with mirage’s face —
A galley’s chain beneath the skies.

The worthy here are hunted beasts —
We **** them all without remorse.
If sensitive, count down your lease —
Few live long on this dark course.

Few leave a blazing, lasting trace,
That helps the next who’ll walk the line.
In seas of lies and deep disgrace,
A faint trail fades beyond all time.

No miracle will lift us up,
No gentle tide will bring us peace.
We’ve long ceased being ourselves —
Decay’s vast sea will never cease.

If seas of shame and filth prevail,
Poseidon brings the final wreck.
The Earth itself stands ‘gainst us all —
Decay has driven her to check.

So comes the “End of History” near —
For sins we all will pay the price.
Plain words say: disaster’s clear —
We’ve all been fools — and paid the price.



---------------------




1.
No captain leads — just beasts on board,
A sinking ship, a world ignored.

2.
We lie and serve the horned Goat’s reign,
Our souls sold out, consumed by pain.

3.
Decay rules seas and Earth alike —
The end is near, the final strike.

4.
Few leave a spark, most fade to dust —
In lies and filth, betray our trust.

5.
The truth is drowned by lies and shame —
We’re all to blame, we fuel the flame.



---------------------



Defoliants

Chemical war’s long hailed a friend —
“Safe,” “harmless,” science claims again.
A simple mask for harm to blend —
No danger here, no cause for pain!

Leaves burn away, then vanish fast —
A poison gone in just a flash.
This science wise? No fool can trust —
The traitors lie, the **** still clash.

And women bear no children now —
The foes spin lies, their twisted play.
But “ours” don’t **** — they vow somehow
To guard our health, come what may.

They guard our health, this great charade —
Fake viruses spread like smoke.
The “scholars” justify the raid —
The villains hooked on lies they spoke.

No chemical bombs we need today —
Just fools and lies will do the job.
“Health protection” is their play —
Hybrid war with a deadly mob.

We’ll **** them all with “health” and care —
A twisted fate beyond compare.



---------------------




1.
Chemical war’s a clean disguise —
They poison with their masked lies.

2.
No bombs needed, just false “care,”
Health kills silent everywhere.

3.
Lies breed death in hybrid fight —
Truth’s the spark, ignite the night.

4.
Fools believe the science lies,
While poison spreads and freedom dies.



---------------------



The Ache of Withering in This “World”

The ache of withering in this “world,”
If even just a spark of mind,
Grows wider every year it’s hurled —
And grinds your spirit down, confined.

The soul’s slow ****** is the madness,
Where all together rot and fade.
Add biting sarcasm’s gladness —
And press the body in the shade.

Add sensitivity — then hell
Will grip you in this cursed place:
No skin beneath the Moloch’s spell,
Wish foes to stay — eternal disgrace.

No trial worse than that awaits,
Hard to invent in hell’s domain.
Though hell, as always, tortures, hates —
Multiplies the madness’ reign.

The foes are thick-skinned beasts, heartless,
For long they’ve played their wicked part.
They spread their filth so artlessly,
You’ll float like logs — deadwood in dark.

And logs surround us everywhere —
In forests, life and light abound.
But in this mad and cursed snare,
The thinner you — the more you’re bound.

By madmen’s logs that crush your soul
Till all your sanity is spent.
Among the logs, the worst control —
The Judas ones — they wait, hell-bent.

Betrayal’s now a paid routine,
Corruption’s like the grains of sand.
Among the logs — the fools and fiends —
Despair will surely **** your stand.

Despair breeds sickness, drunkenness,
Depression, death — best learn it fast,
So fewer fall into the mess,
Less sacrifice the Fates will cast.

If fewer fall, your Spirit grows —
Creative fire will light the way —
Till you don’t fall to slaughter’s throes
And vanish with the crowd’s decay.

So many ways to **** the soul —
The simplest trick’s just ******’s blade.
In this hell where Satan plays God’s role,
Since childhood we in rot are laid.

Fight and create — this sole escape,
To save your soul from hell’s cruel hand.
And one day God will call the tape,
When Sun will burn out every strand.

The cleansing, firing, testing flame —
That’s what awaits us all ahead.
Spirit is measure, hope, and aim —
Walk only Spirit’s path instead.

Before they **** us in the pens,
Where shame and world’s disgrace conspire,
Where lies and fear, like deadly dens,
Make sickness rule with cruel fire.

The ache of withering in this “world” —
Is dread if sickness seems so slight.
A paper target in a field
Of evil attacks day and night.



---------------------




1.
The world decays, the spirit dies,
A paper target ‘neath dark skies.

2.
Despair breeds rot, the soul’s slow ****,
In madness trapped, we bend our will.

3.
Logs crush the weak, the Judas waits,
While evil rules and seals our fates.

4.
Fight, create — or drown in hell,
Only Spirit can break the spell.



---------------------




1.
This cursed world’s a rotting pit —
Your soul’s the prey, they’ll crush and split.

2.
Judas logs will grind you down,
In this hell where fools all drown.

3.
Despair is poison, death’s slow friend —
Resist or perish in the end.

4.
Madness rules — the spirit’s chains,
Break free, or drown in endless pains.



---------------------



The Path

The old world’s ended — now ahead,
A hellish camp of pain and dread.
Few roads remain for fighters true,
So many traps await your view.

You must grasp all this fiery Hell,
And seek the way to break its spell.
Long ruled by vile, inhuman **** —
A way to fight must then become.


We all must unite, build from scratch,
A world anew, no strings to catch.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


The world’s fascism crushes lice,
History shows its ruthless vice.
Cast off your apathy, your shame —
Only honor, reason, claim.

Expose the lies, tear off the mask,
Reveal the pus where shadows bask.
Spread truth wherever you have breath —
This fight is one that beats back death.


The bitter truth’s bright torch must burn,
From ashes, build and then return.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


Create new ways, new clans to rise,
Of reason’s last survivors wise.
No fascist fiend can **** them all,
If ideas break the wicked’s thrall.

Autonomy — the core, the key,
To starve the fiends’ corruption spree.
The sprouts of freedom will emerge,
And bloodless wars the **** will purge.


In clans united, we shall stand,
And build a world from ****** land.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


Freedom’s above all else we prize —
Without it, life’s a hollow guise.
We must protect its fragile seed,
And nurture every vital need.

Then from the ground, we build again —
The only way to break the chain.
The old world’s noose tight ‘round the neck —
But Sovereigns’ will cannot be wrecked.


We must become Sovereigns all,
And from the ruins build the wall.
No worthy cause remains today —
Or else you’ll fade like worms away.


So let us rise and build our fate —
Foundations strong for triumph great!
The devils’ feast will break apart,
And cesspools dry of poison’s art.



---------------------



The Path

The old world’s dead — ahead, a hellish cage,
A death camp looming, fueled by hate and rage.
Few roads remain for those who dare to fight,
A twisted maze of shadows, pain, and blight.

You must confront this Hell that’s ruled by fiends,
Find weapons sharp to tear apart their schemes.
Long tyrants spat their poison, cold and vile —
It’s time to strike and shatter all their guile.


Unite, rise up! Build all from scratch again!
No more weak causes, no more silent pain.
You’ll rot like vermin if you play it safe —
The worm’s fate waits for those who fear the grave.


Worldwide fascists stomp like cruel machines,
History’s blood-soaked pages paint their scenes.
Shake off the numbness, rage and take your stand —
With honor, reason blazing in your hand.

Expose their lies, tear open festering sores,
Spread truth like fire through their rotten floors.
This fight is urgent — no more wasted breath —
Stand fierce, stand strong, fight back against your death.


Carry the torch of bitter, blazing truth!
Build new worlds from ashes, reclaim your youth!
No cause remains worth less than life itself —
Or you’ll rot slowly on a worm’s dark shelf.


Create new clans — strongholds for minds unchained,
Where fascist **** and vipers won’t remain.
Autonomy’s the weapon we will wield,
To starve their hunger, make their towers yield.

Freedom’s seedlings rise through scorched, cracked ground,
Bloodless battle cries will shake their hounds.

Together in clans we’ll stand, unbreakable,
From ****** soil, rise fierce and capable.
No cause remains worth less than life itself —
Or you’ll rot slowly on a worm’s dark shelf.


Freedom’s our crown, our last and greatest prize —
Without it, all is hollow, dead disguise.
Protect its flame, defend it with your soul —
Or face the dark abyss of lost control.

From rubble’s grave, we’ll build anew, reborn,
Break every chain, face down the coming storm.
The old world’s noose strangles the weak and blind —
But Sovereigns’ wills will shatter and unwind.


We must become the Sovereigns, fierce and proud,
Raise up our voices, strong and clear and loud.
No cause remains worth less than life itself —
Or you’ll rot slowly on a worm’s dark shelf.


Rise up, unite! Construct our fate with fire,
Foundations strong, forged in the rage of ire!
The devil’s feast will crumble and decay —
The cesspools burn — their poison swept away.



---------------------



The Path

Old world’s dead — death camp’s all that’s left,
Fight or rot as vermin, stripped and cleft.
Sovereigns rise — no chains, no lies, no shame,
Burn their cesspools down — ignite the flame!



---------------------



To Nowhere...

Here’s the first — the only king,
All the rest? Just flies that cling.
Golden mean’s not meant for us —
No good cause to pause or fuss.

Walk your path — no one awaits,
Step on heads — that’s how it’s made.
Boldness rules, the brazen sham —
Only gutsy **** can cram.

Nature? We don’t give a **** —
No mother here, just ruthless land.
A field to fight, collect your state,
No mercy waits — it’s all too late.

Big shot in this filthy town,
First foul beast with crooked crown.
All the middling crawl in slime,
Drowned and soaked in grime and crime.

No first place — that means you’re lost,
Nerves are tight, the stakes are tossed.
Grab the biggest chunk and fight,
General’s way — crush left and right.

Smaller bite? Then you’re the pawn,
Step aside, your time is gone.
Feet are wiped upon your face,
You’re a dog without a place.

Mammon’s god, his grip is tight,
World’s for sinners, dark as night.
Lower **** must bite and scratch,
No respect for pomp and batch.

"True books" men? We don’t comply —
Trash them, burn, and say goodbye.
Only scraps on garbage piles,
Aggression is our style.

First in line to get the blow —
Universe’s harshest show.
Thinking’s lost amid attacks,
Dust you’ll gather on your tracks.

Half a century past the dawn,
Energy beams fired on.
Into sun, trembling freak —
Sun grows fierce year after week.

Cows don’t **** that blazing heat,
When it burns, no trick or cheat.
No guns, gold, power, or "first" —
You’re the biggest fool, accursed.

All the canned beasts — dust and rust,
Crumbled to ash, and turned to dust.
A new pure world will rise above,
Where Hell is gone — but not the shove.

Too many turned to foul disease,
Lost their souls, no chance to please.
Servile dogs in final age,
Dragging out this cursed stage.

Spirit life will come at last,
Only few will stand steadfast.
**** returns to hell anew —
If the path leads only through —

To Nowhere...



---------------------



To Nowhere

One king rules, the rest are flies,
In this world of fools and lies.
Step on heads — no time to care,
Only brazen **** get there.

Nature’s just a ruthless stage,
No mother, only rage.
Grind the weak beneath your heel,
Only madness here is real.

Fools fight over scraps and dust,
Power fades — betray your trust.
Sun burns hotter, time runs out —
All your guns will fail, no doubt.

Canned beasts turn to ash and smoke,
New world born from all this choke.
Few will rise when Hell is done —
Spirit wins, the fight is won.

**** returns to burning flame,
If the path’s to nowhere — shame.



---------------------



To Nowhere

Here reigns but one true king —
The rest are flies that crawl and sting.
No middle ground for us to find,
No pause, no cause to stay behind.

Step on heads, crush, and climb,
The brazen **** will rule this time.
Nature’s not a gentle mother,
Just battlegrounds and states of bother.

The first lad of the village, foul and mean,
Commands a “land” of sludge unseen.
No strength, no honor — just the fight
For scraps in darkness, out of sight.

If you grasp the largest slice,
You’re general cold, no mercy twice.
Small pieces mean you’re cast away,
Trampled, scorned, a dog’s dismay.

Mammon reigns as chief god here,
This world’s not fit for those sincere.
The **** below will bite and crawl,
And “true” bookworms — we’ll shun them all.

Aggression, brashness — all we’ve got,
The weakest trapped, forever caught.
Our world’s a target — chaos rife,
No peace or quiet in this life.

Gather ashes, bury deep —
This fight is death, no soul to keep.
The Spirit, Mind — cast out, dismissed,
Lost beneath the endless mist.

A spark was sent half-century past,
Into the Sun’s core burning fast.
The Sun grows fiercer every year —
No gun, no wealth will save you here.

You’re just a fool, first of your kind,
A canned beast trapped inside his mind.
All will crumble into dust,
A new world rises from the rust.

Though harsh and cruel, it must be so —
No place here for the rotten foe.
Too many **** have lost their grace,
Just dogs left to end the race.

Only few will walk the light,
When Hell gives way to Spirit’s might.
The **** returns to flame and pain,
If all roads lead to nowhere — shame.



---------------------



To Nowhere

Only one king here rules the throne,
The rest are flies, just flesh and bone.
No golden mean, no room to rest,
Step on heads — only the brash are blessed.

Nature’s no mother, just the pit,
A ruthless game — no room to quit.
The village king, a filthy rat,
Rules the dump — and that is that.

No spine to straighten, no wounds to heal,
Just drunk on lies, all fake and real.
Our ship’s sinking, rats run wild,
No shores for the free, just fools and exiles.

It’s all a fight for scraps and power,
Mammon’s gods run every hour.
True souls cast out, left to rot,
This cesspool world — a living blot.

Bite the hand above you, fight the chains,
No “holy books” — just filthy stains.
Only trash thrives in this abyss,
The strong get crushed, the weak dismiss.

Aggression’s law, the only way,
Soft ones caught and thrown away.
Ashes gather, burial’s near,
Spirit lost to endless fear.

A spark shot straight to the burning sun,
Half a century — and still not done.
The sun’s a furnace, burning fast,
No gun, no gold — your time won’t last.

You’re fool supreme, canned and sealed,
Destined for dust, your fate revealed.
A new pure world will rise in fire,
**** cast out — no more liar.

Only few will cross that light,
The rest condemned to endless night.
**** returns to Hell’s domain,
If all roads lead to nowhere — pain.



---------------------



To Nowhere

Only one king commands this hell,
The rest just flies in endless hell.
No golden middle — none, no cause,
Step on heads — only shameless claws.

Nature’s no mother, just a pit,
A ruthless game where none shall quit.
Village king — a stinking rat,
Rules the filth, and that is that.

No spine to straighten, wounds ignored,
Drowned in lies, the truth’s deplored.
Our ship sinks fast, rats flee the deck,
No free shores left, just chains and wreck.

Scraps and power — all they fight for,
Mammon’s gods demand much more.
True souls discarded, left to rot,
This cesspool world — a putrid blot.

Bite the higher hand that feeds,
Holy books? Just lies and weeds.
Only trash survives this pit,
Strong get crushed, the weak submit.

Aggression’s law, the only way,
Soft ones caught, then thrown away.
Ashes pile, the end is near,
Spirit lost to endless fear.

A spark shot straight to burning sun,
Half a century — the race’s run.
Sun’s a furnace, blazing high,
No gun, no gold, just doomed to die.

You’re fool supreme, canned and sealed,
Fated for dust, your fate revealed.
A new pure world will rise in flame,
**** cast out — no room for shame.

Only few will cross that light,
The rest condemned to endless night.
**** returns to Hell’s domain,
If all roads lead to nowhere — pain.



---------------------



The Idiotic Foundations of Society’s Rot

The idiotic roots of this society’s decay:
Violence, lies from internet trash heaps’ spray;
Factories built to break and rearrange
The minds of slaves — “education” breeds the strange.

Artificial woes — constant worry grown,
As if beneath each step an explosive’s sown.
No life remains — just endless dread and fear,
Where terror rules and sanity’s unclear.

For frightened mice, foul poison slips with ease,
Disguised as cures, designed to displease.
False crises fuel the tyrant’s game,
Binding chains of slavery through evil’s name.

Ignorance made science, endlessly refined —
To study how to keep the slave confined,
How to weaken minds, dumb down the whole,
And crush the spirit, enslave the soul.

Research institutes of ruin work non-stop,
Where demons rule, and Satan’s on top.
Their ****** parade as nation’s pride,
While truth is crushed and justice died.

The vile parasites reap power and pay,
They crown their puppets, puppets obey.
The devil’s servants fill the halls,
The world descends into darkness’ falls.

The Overton Window — their slow-cook trap,
Boiling frogs with water’s cold slap.
Result: beasts and ****, not men remain,
Ready to devour all that’s sane.

For those who think, for minds sharp and bright,
There’s prisons, asylums, dead of night.
Only lies and chaos get their spin,
The link to Spirit cut clean within.

The wise and good now count but few,
And many fall ‘cause horror grew.
They see the rot, the plague, the blight,
And no longer wait for dawn’s light.

But this worldwide *****’s house will burn,
This plague of madness we must spurn.
For Mind and Spirit bring true pain
To those who hold them — Hell to drain.



---------------------



Into the Vastness

Poems fly out into space,
Everything else is just trash —
Vanity, pride, and false face,
With little fire to flash.

If you tailor words for the crowd,
Will readers truly hear?
They’ll lie through verse so loud —
Truth’s rare, and sharpness feared.

To praise a crooked lie’s the law,
“Love” the hollow song.
Slaves can’t love — and that’s the flaw,
The masses singing wrong.

When you bring alarm and rage,
Success won’t come your way.
Only few see past the cage,
When madness rules the day.

The sold-out fools defend their lies,
Dumbed by poison “truth,”
Their knowledge fake, their spirit dies,
A ruin in its youth.

If you strike at this deceit,
Your verse must cut and bite.
No asking for applause or sweet
Attention in the fight.

Don’t trust, don’t whine, don’t fear,
Nor plead for sympathy.
Cleanse your mind with blood and sear
The verse’s energy.

A filthy devil sits on high —
No justice in his court.
Poems sent to space? Or why
Dig trenches for the thought?

Most write only shameless drivel —
“Love” rotting in the pit,
Becoming nonsense, lies that swivel
To madness, full and lit.

Poems fly... perhaps to hell,
Another ****** domain.
I do not grieve nor dwell,
I smash the filth and stain.

Again the beast crucifies,
Spewing nonsense to the herd.
A new poem now will rise —
I don’t care, no word.

Whether crushed or praised by fools,
Art has its twisted ways.
If you don’t rage against their rules,
Your days are dull malaise.

Waste your time in futile toil,
But find a spark to guide.
In this brutal world’s turmoil,
Truth’s a flame inside.

A grain of truth is triumph’s key,
Half-truths breed the fiends.
Worse than liars craft the spree —
Poisons in the streams.

Soon this earth’s a hellish place,
Sent back to dust and fire.
The sun will burn the vile disgrace,
Consume all the mire.

So sold-out voices mean no more,
False pride blocks the mind.
Let your poem bravely soar —
No limits, no confines.

Fly on, poem. No matter where
Your flight may find its rest.
If you reach the bold who dare —
You’ll never be suppressed.



---------------------



The Deadly Storm of Pseudo-Science Lies

I studied math — a proof I made,
So now I watch with wary eyes
The deadly storm where falsehoods braid:
The flood of pseudo-science lies.

They pay their “scholars” fat rewards —
Not for the light of truth’s embrace.
Instead, they push fake worlds to hordes,
A nagging, endless, toxic chase.

The dull charade that kills the mind,
Forgets the Spirit, tortures Soul —
Madness “gifted” by the blind,
A circus with a deadly role.

Pseudo-science casts its spells,
Like shamans clumsy and untrained.
“Science proved it!” everyone yells —
In fake lands, fools remain chained.

But proofs they claim so brazenly
Are lies, a cruel mockery.
The gullible believe so easily,
Blind to the fraud’s perversity.

A shining example, the “sheep virus,”
Madness pushed to the brink.
From “science” comes just mental circus,
Sarcasm’s lost, it cannot think.

Manipulating common mind —
The goal of all this false pretense.
A race to trap all humankind,
And strand the world on ignorance.

These “tech” that **** the Soul within,
Destroy the Earth from core to rim.
Like lice upon a rotting skin,
Humans scratch, but Earth is grim.

And lice can be burned away,
If Earth’s own wisdom wakes to fight.
The sun’s fierce fire will have its way —
And humans burn like moths in light.

Is Earth’s own Consciousness in lies?
No place for truth in this foul game.
These selling fiends with practiced ties,
Are trained to lie without shame.

Is man a Spirit, pure and free,
Or just flesh’s tiny part?
No, only petty tasks you see —
A slave who begs with empty heart.

Believe in none, re-learn the whole,
The world anew, with Spirit’s guide.
Planned dulling of the global soul —
“Science” serves the dark’s dark side.

The forces at the Sun and Earth,
Lift worlds to Spirit’s higher plane.
The Sun will burn corruption’s girth,
Lice consumed, pure truth will reign.

Discard the false god science made —
It leads to hell with lies and rot.
Multiply your Spirit’s aid —
Escape this stench before it’s got.



---------------------



The Crushing Storm of Pseudo-Science Lies

I cracked the code — a theorem proved,
Now watch the plague that blinds the mind:
A lethal flood of lies, unmoved,
By truth — just poison intertwined.

They pay these “scientists” in heaps,
Not for wisdom’s piercing light,
But for spinning fake-*** heaps
Of nonsense forced on us — outright.

A circus dull, that kills the soul,
Forgot the Spirit, crushed the Mind.
Madness stamped as “truth” — their goal,
A plague for fools, mankind confined.

Pseudo-shamans chant their spells,
Dumb frauds wrapped in lab coats’ lies.
“Science proved it!” — cult that sells
Its poison to gullible eyes.

Their “proofs” are lies, grotesque frauds,
Mockery wrapped in fake degrees.
The gullible lap up these clods —
Blind slaves to manufactured disease.

The sheep-virus — peak of crap,
Madness pushed beyond all bounds.
Science? Just a mind collapse,
Sarcasm drowned beneath the sounds.

They puppeteer our common sense —
Their goal: to trap and drag us down,
A race to wreck the whole **** fence,
To drag the world through filth and drown.

Their “technology” kills the soul,
Poisons Earth’s body, scars the land.
Humans swarm like lice control,
******* life with filthy hands.

But lice can burn when Earth awakes,
The sun ignites a cleansing fire.
When heat is real, the falsehood breaks,
Humans die — mere moths in pyre.

Earth’s true Consciousness crushed by lies?
No room for truth in hell’s domain.
These sellout ******* wear disguise,
Spewing lies that choke and chain.

Man’s a Spirit? Hell no — just meat,
A slave to crumbs, dumb and betrayed.
The petty tasks that keep you beat —
Begging scraps as life decayed.

Don’t trust a thing, relearn your world,
Awake your Spirit, fight the plague.
This mass dumb-down’s been tightly twirled —
“Science” serves the devil’s plague.

The cosmic forces, sun and Earth,
Will raise us to the Spirit’s throne.
The sun will scorch corruption’s girth —
Burn lice to ash, restore the known.

Trash the science idol false —
It drags us down to hell’s abyss.
Only Spirit’s strength repels
This stench and rot — salvation’s kiss.



---------------------



The Ruinous Gale of Pseudo-Science Lies

I studied math, theorems proved,
Yet watch this storm that blinds all thought —
A gale of lies from falsehoods moved,
Where truth is drowned and reason caught.

They pay these “scientists” in coins,
Not for the light of true insight,
But for a world of crafted *****,
Where falsehood reigns and darkens sight.

A theater of soulless acts,
Where spirit’s flame is smothered deep.
Madness wears the guise of facts,
And drags the soul into its keep.

Pseudo-shamans cast their spells,
Clad in robes of fake renown,
Claiming truths as worn-out shells,
While wisdom’s voice is crushed and drowned.

The proofs they parade — mere sham,
A brazen mockery on display.
Yet man, so prone to flimsy scam,
Gives credence to their foul play.

The sheep-virus of lies evolved,
Madness pushed beyond all bounds.
“Science” here — a mind dissolved,
Sarcasm silenced by the sounds.

They manipulate collective mind —
Their purpose: bind us in their chain,
A contest cruel and so unkind,
To sink the world in endless pain.

Their “progress” kills the very soul,
Pollutes the earth, defiles the air.
Humanity reduced to roles
Of lice, ignored and stripped bare.

But Earth is not a silent slave,
Her consciousness will soon arise,
The sun will burn away the grave —
And purify the false disguise.

Is there a place for truth in lies?
No room within this shattered sphere.
These hired liars wear thin guise,
Their deception bred in fear.

Is man a spirit or mere flesh,
A pawn to crumbs, dumb and confined?
The petty tasks, the endless mesh —
Of slaves to gifts that dull the mind.

Reject all lies, reclaim your sight,
Awaken spirit, seek the true.
Though darkness dims the fading light,
The path remains for those who do.

The cosmic pulse that beats in suns,
Will lift us from this mortal cage.
The fire burns where falsehood runs,
A cleansing blaze to end the age.

Cast down the idols falsely crowned,
Lest you be dragged to hell’s domain.
Only spirit’s strength is found,
To break the chains and heal the pain.



---------------------



The Devouring Gale of False Science

I traced the threads of logic’s weave,
Proved truths that time cannot undo—
Yet see this tempest minds deceive,
A gale of lies that blinds what’s true.

These “scholars” paid in empty gold,
Not for the flame of insight’s light,
But to weave webs, dark and cold,
And cloak the world in endless night.

A theater of soulless screams,
Where spirit’s breath is crushed to dust,
Madness cloaked in science’s dreams,
Chains forged from fear, deceit, and rust.

False prophets chant their hollow spells,
Sorcerers of sham and guise,
Claiming knowledge — but darkness dwells
Behind the mask of their disguise.

Their proofs—a cruel and artful lie,
Mocking reason, scorned and torn,
While gullible souls comply,
Feeding lies till hope is worn.

A viral plague of sheep and shame,
Where madness spreads unchecked and wild.
“Science” here, a hollow name,
A poison subtle and reviled.

They bend the mind’s collective core,
To forge a cage from fear and pain,
A game to drag us evermore
Into a void devoid of gain.

Their “progress” kills the soul’s deep seed,
Pollutes the earth, suffocates the air.
Humanity, a crawling breed,
Like lice that multiply in despair.

But Earth itself, a living soul,
Will rise in fire to purge the blight,
The sun’s fierce heart will sear and roll,
Burning falsehood into light.

Is there truth left within this lie?
No sacred place within this tomb.
Deceivers reign beneath the sky,
Their reign a veil of endless gloom.

Is man a spark of spirit’s flame,
Or slave to crumbs that numb and bind?
A puppet lost in mortal shame,
Drowned in gifts that dull the mind.

Awake! Reject the poisoned stream,
Reclaim the light that’s truly yours.
Though shadows smother every dream,
The spirit’s path endures, endures.

The pulse of suns, the cosmic breath,
Will lift us from this cage of clay.
Through fire, through chaos, even death—
The spirit finds its sovereign way.

Cast down false idols crowned in lies,
Lest you be dragged to hell’s abyss.
Only the soul that dares to rise
Can break these chains and reclaim bliss.



---------------------



The Devouring Gale of False Science

I traced the sacred lines of thought,
Unveiled the truths that time begets—
Yet now the world is caught, distraught,
In lies that bind like tightening nets.

These “scientists,” bought and sold,
Not seekers of the Light within,
But merchants of a darkness cold,
Spreading falsehoods, seeds of sin.

A theatre where souls are crushed,
Where Spirit’s breath is torn away,
Madness dressed in reason’s brush,
Chains forged in deceit and clay.

False priests chant arcane incantations,
Sorcerers with empty hands,
Claiming science as salvation—
Yet they sow the blackest strands.

Their proofs are cruel blasphemy,
A mockery of mortal minds.
Blind devotion breeds the plague,
And reason withers, lost, confined.

A viral herd of soulless sheep,
Madness roaring unchecked and wild.
False science digs a grave too deep,
The poisoned chalice, bitter and defiled.

They warp the minds of all mankind,
A cage constructed out of dread.
The soul’s bright flame, they seek to bind,
And drown in lies the path ahead.

Their progress kills the sacred spark,
Poisons earth, corrupts the sky.
Humans crawl, blind in the dark,
Like lice on corpses, doomed to die.

But Earth—she holds a living fire,
A core that burns with truth’s fierce breath,
The sun will rise with purging pyre,
To burn the lies and wake from death.

Is there a soul within this lie?
A temple in this house of shame?
Deceivers reign beneath the sky,
But Spirit’s light remains aflame.

Is man a mere machine of flesh,
Or Spirit’s child, divine and free?
Or just a slave to hollow flesh,
Dulled by gifts that blind and bleed?

Awake! Break free from chains that bind,
Reclaim the sacred spark inside.
Though shadows crawl and tempests blind,
The Spirit’s path shall still abide.

The pulse of suns, the cosmic breath,
Will lift us from this mortal hell.
Through fire, through chaos, even death—
The soul will rise, it will rebel.

Cast down the idols forged in lies,
Lest you be dragged to endless night.
Only the soul that dares to rise
Can shatter chains and claim the Light.

So fight, reclaim your inner throne,
Beyond the veil of lies and scorn.
For in that flame you stand alone—
Yet from that flame, a world is born.



---------------------



The Devouring Gale of False Science

I traced the sacred lines of thought,
Unveiled the truths that time begets—
Yet now the world is caught, distraught,
In lies that bind like tightening nets.

False prophets clad in shadows’ veil,
Mouthpieces of the void’s cold breath—
Their science is a cursed grail,
A chalice brimming with slow death.

These “scientists,” by darkness led,
Are sorcerers of the abyss,
Whispering to the living dead,
Selling souls in silent hiss.

A theatre of broken minds,
Where Spirit’s flame is doused and chained,
Madness dances, fate unkind,
On thrones of ashes, crowned and stained.

They weave their spells with twisted tongues,
Incantations forged in lies,
As ancient cosmic song is wrung
To birth the serpent’s cruel disguise.

Their proofs—a mockery profane,
Veils hiding the abyss below.
The faithful drink the venomed bane,
Blind shepherds led where shadows grow.

A viral herd, a plague of thought,
Madness roaring unchecked and wild.
False science crafts the abyssal plot,
The poison chalice, bitter and defiled.

They warp the mind’s eternal light,
Forge cages from despair and dread,
Bind the soul in endless night,
Where hope is drowned, and spirit bled.

Their progress feeds on sacred flame,
Poisons earth, defiles the sky,
Humanity, lost in the game,
Like lice on corpses doomed to die.

Yet deep beneath the darkened veil,
A primal fire still burns bright—
The sun, a forge beyond the pale,
Will purge the shadows with its light.

Is there a soul behind the mask?
A beacon in this house of shame?
Though deceivers weave their task,
The Spirit’s flame remains untamed.

Are we but dust and fleeting breath,
Or children of eternal fire?
Slaves of flesh, resigned to death,
Or bearers of the soul’s desire?

Awake! Break chains that bind your core,
Reclaim the sacred spark within.
Through storms, through darkness evermore,
The Spirit’s path will still begin.

The pulse of suns, the cosmic breath,
Draw us from the void’s deep hell.
Through fire, through chaos, even death—
The soul will rise, will break the spell.

Cast down the idols forged in lies,
Lest darkness drag you to its lair.
Only souls who dare to rise
Can shatter night and claim the air.

So fight—the battle’s spirit-thrall—
Beyond the veil, beyond the scorn.
From that pure flame, a new world calls,
Born in the fire, reborn, reborn.



---------------------



The Infernal Gale of False Science

I sought the sacred geometry of thought,
Unveiling Truth’s eternal flame—
Yet here the world is darkly caught,
By serpents cloaked in Science’s name.

False priests of Void, the shadowed choir,
Invoke the abyss with whispered lies,
Their alchemy—corruption’s fire—
A chalice brimmed with soul’s demise.

They weave black spells with poisoned breath,
The shaman’s mask on blinded eyes.
Each “proof” a lie that dances death,
While spirit’s sacred flame denies.

The cosmos mourns in silent grief,
The Dance of Light turned into scorn.
Madness reigns beyond belief,
On thrones where ashes crown the torn.

They bind the mind with chains unseen,
Incantations of decay—
And drown the Spirit’s vital sheen
In shadows cast by falsehood’s sway.

A viral plague of empty thought,
Madness roars its bitter cry.
The abyss with poison wrought,
Beneath the sun’s eternal sky.

They desecrate the sacred earth,
Defile the heavens’ radiant gold.
Humanity, bereft of worth,
Like lice on corpses, weak and cold.

Yet deeper than the darkest night,
The primal fire still burns within—
The Sun, the Great Awakening Light,
Will cleanse the false, destroy the sin.

Is there a soul beneath the dust?
A spark to pierce this veil of pain?
Or slaves to flesh, consumed by rust,
Bound tight within the liar’s chain?

Awake, O child of ancient fire!
Break free the cage that dims your sight.
Through shadowed realms and hellish pyre,
The Spirit calls to endless light.

The cosmic pulse, the starry breath,
Draws forth from darkness, from the fall.
Through death, through chaos, through the death—
The soul will rise beyond the thrall.

Tear down the idols forged in lies,
False gods of flesh and empty dreams.
Only those who dare to rise
Can pierce the night with sacred beams.

The ancient Guardians of the Flame,
Watch from realms beyond the veil.
Their silent wisdom calls your name,
To walk the path where Truth prevails.

The Phoenix rises from the ash,
The Dragon sleeps within your core.
Through trials dark and cosmic clash,
Your Spirit soars forevermore.

So fight—the battle is within—
A war of shadows, fire, and light.
From depths below to heights unseen,
Born in the sacred eternal fight.
Test Ting Won To Tree
By
Charles Fleischer







Rifleman decal water is to Tiny basket liners as Strained yo-yo string is to?
Dark wool glowing is to Oldest lost oddity as First genetic engine is to?
Black quail taint is to Nut curdled paint as Hemp biscuit dominoes are to?
Steam traced paper is to Lemon ash vapor as Digital ****** wig is to?
Eccentric brine mimes are to Electric silk slacks as Spark formed lava is to?
Sunchoked black hornets are to as Rescued orphan doves as Retold cat jokes are to?
Hand traced videos are to Braided rubber spines as Opal rain dancers are to?
Halogen anchor gong is to Annoying bread portraits as Soft bracelet lockers are to?
Old troll bios are to Select cherub echoes as Broken matchstick parasols are to?
Dome nine chariots are to Frayed lunar remnants as Fuming honey flasks are to?
Bluing assault operas is to Beading fluted flowers as Magnetic lawn tweezers are to?
Converted flea sponges are to Floating dog murals as Frozen Archie comics are to?
Molded road pads are to Crusty gumdrop thread as Straw ribbed pelicans are to?
Inflatable diamond vowel is to Single gender raffle as Groovy desert coffee is to?
Temporary solution radiation is to Idiotic witness mumble as Motorized marshmallow kit is to?
Panoramic utopian paranoia is to Aggravated **** silhouettes as Unhinged gun sellers are to?
Homesick ghost pajamas is to Virtuous fly fungus as Royal sandpaper gloves are to?
Gangster hayride tickets are to Deer milk Oreos as Turnip fairy maps are to?
Glue gun **** is to Nocturnal cabin mice as Cab fare corn is to?
Speckled fish nickels are to Under water bric-a-brac as Epic snakeskin paisley is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Raunchy snail kimono is to Coiled time dice as Smeared equator malt is to?
Metallic centaur franchise is to Transparent cheese chess as Spotted glacial remnants is to?
Sky fused pong is to Rustic mothers brattle as Granulated canister ointment is to?
Overgrown maze mule is to Mated smugglers hugging as Floating thesaurus exam is to?
Sliding coed sprinkler is to Soapy whitefish rebate as Precious lamb diaper is to?
Mushy acorn luster is to Lilac protein rings as Slapstick wrestler dialect is to?
Freaky plankton bells is to Rolling horse divorce as Morphing morphine lips are to?
Sticky razor sparkle is to Emerald muscle spasm as Glaring cat cipher is to?
Peppy unisex mustache is to Pelican fighter syndrome as Clumping night grumble is to?
Scanning paired pearls are to Ruby rubbed roaches as Satanic sailor flotsam  are to?
Glowing asteroid solder is to Ideal shark data as Failed frail doilies are to?
Numb nuts boredom is to Fantastic icy phantoms as Sporadic silk creations is to?
Crooks crow chow is to Loading spackled bonder as Gargled snowdrop blasters are to?
Outdid myself today is to Outside myself again as Outlived myself controls is to?
Venting shuttlecock upset is to Texting badminton kitten as Settler tested motels are to?
Prepare paired vents is to Prefer paid events as Pretender predicts fiction is to
Crunchy mental fender is to Catching mentor menace as Poorly seasoned lettuce is to?
Outside sidewalk inside is to Seaside outcast input as Sideways landslide victory is to?  
Compile fake password is to Compost world poo as Compose village anthem is to?
Crooked crotch blunder is to Loud crowd thunder as Divine vine finder is to?
Chucks’ wooden truck is to Bucks good luck as Sticky ducks tucked is to?  
Overhaul underway overseas is to Overturned downsized pickup as Underground onramp overloaded is to?
I’ll bite there is to Aisle byte their as Isle bight there is to?
Gnat gnawed wrist is to ***** show beans as See through putty is to?
Flapping floppy guppies are to Buzzing zipped dozers as Muddy ****** strippers are to?
Dark diagonal dialogue is to Diabolical dihedral die as Interesting circadian exposition is to?
Experimental flossing expectations are to Waxed dental traps as Permanent impermanence resolution is to?  
Outran ringside intrigue is to Sidetracked onboard boatload as Loaded firearm topside is to?
Phony ****** phone is to Chewy ego honey as Yogi Mama’s dada is to?
Nimble teardrop squiggle is to Humble cage curtains as Loyal truckstop morals are to?
Torching curled elastic is to Sonic neighbor clamor as Golden droplet integers are to?
Duplex pupil scanners are to Nacreous cloud clocks as Shrouded flute shops are to?
Lawn rocket tendrils are to Finding surreal borders as Sheep monarchs children is to?
Gloating ungloved squires are to Busting double doubters as Pushing woeful doctors are to?
Tricking snowbelt firedogs is to Panmixing blackened haywires as Unclothed shameful leaders are to?
Malicious ranch ritual is to Internal puppet bubble as Ornate underworld masquerade is to?
Rustic debonair Eskimos are to Mindless sassy elves as Gorgeous somber acrobats are to?
Learned earthy pimps are to Fearless sneaky Queens as Somber gentle vagrants are to?
Shocking horse wear is to Glossy sled fluid as Damaged chipmunk tongue is to?
Traditional agony chart is to Damp voodoo motel as Backwoods museum quote is to?
Magical cat cabin is to Dapper porpoise humor as Malicious graveyard foam is to?
Therapeutic gazelle cushion is to Stored alibi equipment as Stunning tempo light is to?
Fantastic rascal art is to Wasted prune dust as Jupiter’s ****** law is to?
Little nut razor is to Gigantic hyena shield as Hourglass pillow fever is to?
Coiled rain clouds are to Dizzy tycoon clowns as Lime eating cowards are to?
Possessive epicurean demonstrators are to Faded eavesdropping giants as Determined swanky drunks are to?
Aquatic preview pocket is to Soggy judicial topiary as Finicky hamster fabric is to?
Enlarged fruit cuff is to Obedient mumbling orchestra as Dark tenant tariff is to?
Recycled flash thermometer is to Botched temptation probe as Pet glider grid is to?
Seriously shy idols are to Costly driving perfumes as Ferryboat chapel wine is to?
Winged jalopy details are to Faithful spectral fathers as Sprinkled mint rainbows are to?
Spelling unneeded words is to Sprouting donut ***** as Blaming mellow mallrats are to?
Eroding loom keepsake is to Magnificent accordion canoe as ***** bongo fumes are to?
Souring violet ink is to Juvenile insult park as Periodic ferret envy is to?
Obedient boyfriend aroma is to Sanitized fat lozenges as Dramatic jailer garb is to?
Mysterious patrol group is to Dynamic maiden discharge as Captured hurricane ratio is to?
Lackadaisical bigot bingo is to Oblong care merchant as Expensive swamp shampoo is to?
Petite orifice worship is to Atomic barge pet as Plucked hair exhibit is to?
Elite officer wallop is to Automatic yard rake as Healing ****** glitter is to?
Needless swan costume is to Giant jungle goat as Organic picnic napkin is to?
Leaky jet steam is to Innovative fascist whistle as Enchanting idol evidence is to?
Plastic mascara seduction is to Greasy thermal ointment as Attractive muskrat crease is to?
Lucky camel pills are to White coral Torah as Eternal stage clutter is to?
Roasted oat **** is to Sloppy *** glue as Nylon table debt is to?
Steep nook catastrophe is to Empty dome damage as Pulsing breeze powder is to?
Empty sack power is to Hitched buck stroke as Red claw warning is to?
Ultra brief slogan is to Yummy lab mutant as Pathetic ball armor is to?
Nauseating fish splatter is to Obstinate ****** twitch as Strained ***** coffee is to?
Mezzanine intermission fossil is to Proven **** apathy as Golden duck shroud is to?
Civil tutors torment is to Thor’s posted theory as Yellow melon rain is to?
Immense olive raft is to Exploding kangaroo buffet as Ethereal witness index is to?  
Marching dark speeders are to Searing scribble fighters as **** tripping sinners are to?
Seeping viral angst is to Aged hermit tea as Murky bowl nibble is to?
Condensed blister guzzle is to Pink dorsal pie as Lavish speckled runt is to?
Needy insult poet is to Sedated acorn trader as Dry honey zoo is to?
Veiled trust flicker is to Deranged poser fashion as Flat sizzle tangent is to?
Purified diet spray is to Nebulous wishing target as Thrilling screen dope is to?
Majestic ribbon astronomy is to Bizarre formation sector as Rebel bell gimmick is to?
Sealed dart whisper is to Green silk draft as Cold vacuum varnish is to?
Clumsy raven power is to Insect island circus as Minted mink drapes are to?
Curved map ruler is to Tiny lethal radio as Blue fused metal is to?
Inverted laser invasion is to Damp sheep dump as Puffy gown smoke is to?
Saucy Channel blazer is to Leather goat filament as Starched locomotive hat is to?
Broken jumper leads are to Disgraced mini exorcists as Designer shamrock caulk is to?
Tweaked poachers smokes are to Assorted sulfur pathways as Collected bedlamp trickle is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Crawling battle worms are to Vibrating metal pedals as Mentholated matrix wax is to?
Missing meshed rafts are to Liquid rock pipes as Crinkled bean bikinis are to?
Tithing **** joggers are to Perforated buck fronds as Leather zither picks are to?
Fearing truthful cowards is to Rambling preachers mumble as Gazebo ambulance gasoline is to?
Shelving elder’s whiskers is to Poaching goalies pesto as Radical tricycle angst is to?
Mucky gunboat polymer is to Primeval maypole flameout as Cathedral greenhouse intercom is to?
Diaphanous safety prize is to Unleashed saucer lion as Dorky blonde ropewalker is to?
Tapered spring meter is to Silver silo mythology as Misguided judges medallions are to?
Alligator x-ray money is to Cherry unicorn water as Coyote cactus toy is to?
Cowardly dorm scrooge is to Atomized pewter script as Flattened spore smoothies are to?
Trash can yodel is to Flashing wired spam as Exploding chocolate pudding is to?
Sonar blasted bushings are to Threading ruined wheels as Forty shifting boxes are to?
Tiny balloon rebellion is to Softened square cleanser as Iconic soul sucker is to?
Harmony night light is to Spanish nitrogen desire as Squirrel cavern iodine is to?

Lazy winter secret is to Slow airport widget as Silly mustard binder is to?
Elephants raising raisins are to Microscopic lamb planet as Purple hay puppets are to?
Caribou venom vaccine is to Electronic lemonade choir as Demonic princess massage is to?
Beet coated bridge is to Fattened needle point as Mylar monkey spine is to?
Ashy ink dust is to Youngest rabbi planet as Orange cartoon geometry is to?
Cold green chalk is to Cobalt ladder farce as ***** river filters are to?
Sublime sheep master is to Sleeping past rapture as Subliminal bliss jelly is to?
Ocean crust slippers are to Twigged germ radar as Popping sharpie scope is to?
Zen wrapped beep is to Oak foamed code as Wicked flashing sizzle is to?
Dew eyed sleigh is to Say I do as Act as me is to?
Humpback on hammock is to Ham hocking hummer as Hunchback with knapsack is to?
Corned flag jelly is to Draped wing chewers as Tripping swan acid is to?
Futuristic Rembrandt chant is to Almond likened meadows as Asian timber blue is to?
Nap in sack is to Flap on Jack as Ducks dig crack is to?
Flowing flavored lava is to Gleaming optic layers as Enhanced goose gibberish is to?      
Flag tied pajamas are to Saline checker choir as Speed reading quotas is to?
Whipped spam spasms are to Misted shaman scripture as Testing pitched bells is to?
Cave aged eggs are to Crowded tiger cages as ****** wagon pegs are to?
Pigeon towed car is to a Man toad art as Wolf whisker wish is to?
Second hand clothes are to Minute hand gestures as Final hour prayer is to?
Slick wicked shavers are to Tricky watch boxes as Sprouting pine tattoos are to?
Waxed stick ravens are to Match stick foxes as Narrowed thermal towers are to?
Ice cave rice is to Laced face lice as Gourmet pet **** is to?
Diamond lane anniversary is to Space age appropriate as Time travel agency is to?
Lime bark violin is to Lemon twig guitar as Lunar sky waffles are to?
Fake rat **** is to Smart cake batter as Rugged fur tax is to?
Tarred raft fluff is to Flaked rafter dust as Lined liquor flask is to?
Flakes will fall is to Take Bills call as Broken maze compass is to?
First faked voter is to Entombed cartoon honey as Smallest aching smurf is to?
Fancy bared ******* are to Flaky fairy treats as Kings amp filter is to?
Bone window folio is to Whittled fake pillow as Little fitted jackets are to?
Nine nuts brittle is to Ate pear pie as Six packed poppers are to?
Incandescent playground pencil is to Elastic hand worm as Perfumed piano ink is to?
Opal shifting anode is to a Windup lion decoy as Pale paisley trolley is to?
Stacked black boxes are to Old packed tracks as a Throwing micron hammers is to?
Apricot bark furnace is to Merry Orchid Choir as an Ivory rinsing funnel is to?  
Narcotic honey nuts are to Slick flag toffees as Silk fig sugar is to?
Orange coin raisins are to Low note candies as Smelling balled roses is to?
Pocket packed monotints are to Tragic ladder hayracks as Ravishing speed traders are to?
Crayon spider resin is to Coral squirrel forceps as Wolf tumbled loaf is to?  
Silver wheat flies are to Width shifting wheels as Golden blister blankets are to?
Really tiny hippopotamus is to Masked fat podiatrist as a Sad sack psychiatrist is to?
Miniature Mesopotamian monuments are to Apple minted elephants as Raising wise ravens is to?
Lathered nymph nacre is to Sonic ion constellations as Concealed iron craft is to?  
Epic gene toy is to Ladies bubble sled as Jagged data bowl is to?
Bugged dagger bag is to Pop sliced meld as Atom bending moonlight to?  
Rural madam’s deed is to Dyed dew dipper as Eight sprayed dukes are to?
Jiffy grand puffer is to Floating altar myth as Vintage dark mirth is to?
Undercover overnight underwear is to Overpaid undertaker overdosing as Overheard understudy freebasing is to?

Black grape crackle is to Red cactus ruffle as Installing padded pets are to?
Snide snobs sniffing are to Sneaky snails snoring as Snared snipes sneezing are to?
Exploring explosive exits is to Explaining expansive exports as Expecting expert exchange is to?
Shrewd logic ledger is to Puppets dropping cupcakes as Placated topaz octopi are to?
Door roof tools are to Cool wool boots as Wood cooked root is to?
Bright fight light is to Night flight fright as Mites bite site is to?
Floor flood fluid is to Wooden door Druid as Nasty **** broom is to?
Accurate police photography is to Intelligent microbe geography as Condensed aerosol biography is to?
Cowardly cowboy grime is to Corpulent corporate crime as Bosnian dwarf necromancer is to?
Jell-O clearing shaker is to Brillo cleaning shiner as Cheerios bowling shields are to?
Mumbled mindless hokey is to Fumbled found money as Humming kinder bunny is to?
Daisy’s clock setter is to Lilly’s boxer toxin as Poodles rose paddle is to?
Watch Bozo Copernicus is to Hire Clarabelle Newton as Find ***-wee Einstein is to?
Amethyst thistle whistles is to Lapis pistol whip as Diamond bomb scar is to?
Dandelion seahorse rescue is to Crabapple dogwood farm as Faux foxglove lover is to?    
Optical poppy stopper is to Polar halo lens as Day-Glo rainbow sticker is to?
Savanna leopard spotted is to Eskimo lassos kisses as Alligator lemonade standard is to?
Bill of Rights is to Will of left as Thrill of night is to?
Baptize floozies quickly is to Useless outsized nozzles as Puzzled wizard wanders is to?        
Chaps wearing chaps are to Chaps contesting contests as Consoling concealed consoles is to?
Quiet squirming squirrels are to Aeon beauty queens as Queasy greasy luaus is to?
Knew new gnu is to Sense scents cents as We’ll wheal wheel is to?
Blazing zingers ringing are to Wheezing singers flinging as Freezing finger number are to?
Lamb tomb jogger is to Dumb numb **** as Thumbed crumb bug is to?

Blue accordion casket is to Jaded scholar ***** as German mushroom circus is to?
President George Flintstone is to Funny Fred Washington as Abraham Jetson’s dog is to?
Google Desmond Tutu is to Kalamazoo Zoo Park as Zodiac actors Guru is to?
Swamp cradled whisperer is to Cherished drawbridge cello as Bludgeoned prankster outlaws are to?
Dukes pink mittens are to Smeared nest carava
Saša D Lović Sep 2014
1

gledao je dugo svoju sen
zakrvavljenim očima
  grlo mu se grčilo

sekiru sa zida da ponese
u šumu
  šta bi drugo

inače često dovodi sebe
u takvu situaciju
  ne zbog nečeg patološkog

ne zbog neke skrivene želje
već zbog šume
  ona je i ovog puta kriva

usne su mu drhtale
šumom odzvanjao njegov dah
  drveće počelo da vrišti

suze cerove kvasile humus
no to ga ovog puta ne pokoleba
  ovog puta otići će mnogo dalje

na sekiru pade zrak
i ona umi njegovo telo
  svojim sjajem


2

mala fide
dim se vije mehovi nadimaju
  čekići biju

znojavi kovači brkove suku
piju vodu metal stenje
  pod serijom teških udaraca

crveni se još nerođena sekira
u agoniji nastajanja
  sijaju se oštri zub i uvo tupo

pa je utom zgrabiše klešta
sve zaneme
  sve sačeka prvi vrisak

susret sa vodom
mala fide
  šta avaj nastade


3

u početku beše raka
i on je plesao oko nje
  poslednji ples

uma atrofičnog
udovi mu leteli sekli etar
  bale kvasila mu lice

očiju zakrvavljenih
ni glasa da pusti
  zmije su stenjale upregnute

niz amove otrov se slivao
raka poče da biva jezero
  drveće spustilo grane

i sve više grdilo mu lice
o boli
  ples je bivao sve sporiji

ptice su sve tiše rikale
iz tame poče da se rađa tama
  grđa i crnja

muve su naokolo zujale
drveće počelo da vrišti
  suze cerove kvasile humus


4

i kako je plakala sekira
naišavši na kamen
  vatrene suze prštale naokolo

kamen se vrteo kamen je jeo
vatrene suze
  i zub oštriji postajaše

svetlost njena poče da izjeda tamu
grđu i crnju
  od one pređašnje

pade zrak na nagrđeno lice
i stade sa plesom
  zmijama skide jaram

umi udove svoje u jezeru
urlik zapara galamu oko njega
  i nastade tišina tišina tišina

kezio se njegov lik
sa mirne površine
  progledao je


5

u početku beše i šuma
prašuma beskrajna
  u umu njegovom atrofičnom

i u njoj on i ona u njemu
podjednako
  plakao on plakala i šuma

jeli jedno drugo
grlo mu se grčilo
  udovi sušili crni dani behu

anđeli su sletali
kljucali mu oči
  koje su bile voda

donosili vatru u prašumu
da sagori um njegov atrofični
  vatra se gasila

donosili i vodu vodu mutnu vodu bistru
belu crvenu zelenu bilo kakvu
  voda se gasila


6

išla je sekira iz ruke u ruku
brzo i sigurno
  kroz vatru kroz vodu

padale glave
padalo drveće
  zub oštriji uvo tuplje držalje crnje

od krvi od zemlje
sekira je kružila
  tog su dana žene crno mleko muzle

ah nesreće
ptice su sve divlje rikale
  muve su zujale

pauci se razmrežaše
između prstiju njegovih
  ključala je lava u grudima šume

kezio se njegov lik
sa mirne površine
  jezera


7

sa rukom stopila se sekira
skameni se dah pogled znoj
  kidao je dronjke od odeće

bale kvasila mu lice
konji su bili nemirni
  anđeoskim hučanjem šuma ga zvala

lišće je padalo sa drveća
magla proždirala etar
  ptice behu odletele

rožnjače mu se zabrazdiše
srce poče da kuca
  sekira urliče

anđeli behu odleteli
samo su muve zujale
  on penio

šuma hučala
jezero ključalo
  tišina


8

na kraju beše svetlost
prasvetlost beskrajna
  u umu njegovom atrofičnom

i u njoj on i ona u njemu
podjednako
  smejao se on smejala se i svetlost

jeli jedno drugo
grlo mu se širilo
  udovi listali crni dani behu prošli

demoni su izranjali
kljucali oči
  koje su bile vatra

donosili gmazove u svetlost
da opogane um atrofični
  gmazovi se sušili

donosili pegaze sa rogom
bele crvrne zelene bilo kakve
  krila im otpadala


9

stajali bi sekira i on stopljeni
u agoniji
  svetlost zaslepi oko njegovo

iz rožnjače kapala je lava
tuga poče da izjeda svetlost
  grđu i crnju od pređašnje

zub tuplji uvo oštrije držalje istrošeno
pade tren na nagrđeno lice
  i poče sa plesom

zmijama jaram na vrat
kezilo se njegovo lice sa dna rake
  progledao je


10

granulo je sunce i nesta svetlosti
zmije su strašno siktale
  upregnute

gledale kako se otrov iz jezera
pretvara u oblak
  oblak zakri sunce

i njegov um atrofični
udovi mu leteli
  pogađali ptice

muve su zujale
očiju zakrvavljenih
  pusti glas planine su se tresle

vetar poče da duva
umrsi mu kosu koža mu se ospe
  iz tabana poče korenje da niče


11

sva se magla upi u njega
on spusti sekiru u raku
  u raku doteče lava

i ne bi više zuba oštrog uva tupog
šume prašume svetlosti prasvetlosti
  jednostavno ne bi

na kraju beše
on
  u agoniji

postojao je
Dva mala prsta
razlicitih ruku
razlicitih godina
razlicitih pogleda
na ponos
nasla su se
na stolu
kao u ogledalu
a izmedju njih
stajala je
razdaljina

razdaljina
merena
šublerom

Jedno lice bilo je
fascinirano tom
razdaljinom
dok je drugo lice
nesto objasnjavalo

Jedno lice je
sa paznjom pratilo
da li ce se razdaljina
smanjiti ili nestati
dok je drugo lice
nesto objasnjavalo

Jedno lice  proslo
je kroz razlicita
osecanja
ushicenja,
zacudjenosti
ogromne zelje
dok je Drugo lice
nesto objasnjavalo

A onda je Drugo lice
otislo do drugog stola
dok je Jedno lice
i dalje gledalo u
svoj mali
nepomicni prst
urezujuci
u svoje srce
tu razdaljinu

razdaljinu
merenu
šublerom



hm 28 April 2019
Iz nove zbirke pesama :)
Mala secanja iliti Vezbanje memorije
Johnny Zhivago Aug 2013
Spanish influenza
walking pneumonia
icepick headache
common cold
whooping cough
Diabetes
anorexia
getting old

flat foot
bad back
heel spur
heart attack
spasticus
autisticus
tongue tied
amb(i)dextrous

my weakness
is my forte
my sickness is  my skill
my illness
is my realness
it makes my life a thrill


Trying to fight this
bronchitis
gangrene
runny nose
frostbite
tooth decay
hat hair
broken bones

bed bound
shell-shocked
flea ridden
sinusitis
cholera
dropsy
eliphantitis
out-all-nightis

wom­b fever
winter fever
black water fever
remitting fever
ship fever
jail fever
camp fever
or schizophrenia

scarlet fever
tuberculosis
American plague
rock n roll
Wheezing
Paralysed
Got gas
In both holes

rabies
scabies
rickets
and SARS
man flu
bird flu
swine flew
from Mars

multiple sclerosis
tennis elbow-sis
stomach ulcers
and leukaemia
night blindness
hypothermia
lung cancer
sickle-cell anaemia

French pox
Lockjaw
Polio
Gout
Nostalgia
Dropsy
Knocked right
Out

Stuttering
Bellyacher
Anti-social
Leprosy
Sleep walker
Sleep talker
Absent minded
OCD

Tourettes, ****
Pyromania
tonsillitis
Conjunctivitis
Food poisoned!
Warted over
My Psoriasis
(Will I survive this?)

Measles
Malaria
Meningitis
Migraine
Scrum-pox
Worm fit
Water on
the brain

apparitions
seeing things
rattly chest
bad breath
la duzi
tormentation
inflammation
black death

measles
malaria
migrane
mumps
leprosy
lice and
leg bone
lumps

kleptomania
bubonic plague
black *****
feeling ****
bone shave
falling sickness
wanna stop
just cant quit

Huntington's and
Parkingson's and
Hare-lipped
Hay fever
Typhoid fever
Glandular fever
Night fever
And Hysteria

intellectual
dyslexia
dysfunctional
family
cancer crab
stillborn twin
bad blood
epilepsy

Parking spot
disabilities
all the wounds in
all the militaries
pity thee with
lost agility
lost babes or
infertility

ear infection
starvation
Hepatitis
E to A
smallpox
chicken pox
cow pox
what a day

tuberculosis
stuttering
panic stricken
star struck
scurvy
shingles
headless chicken
bad luck


paranoid
in the void
premature
*******
stomach ulcers
feeble pulses
chronicled
*******

autistic
gallstones
double-jointe­d
wrists and knees
consumption
bad digestion
quinsy palsy
ticks and fleas

amnesia
typhus
amnesia
heart failure
radiation
cholera
amnesia
bad behaviour

Hypochondriac?
By gosh, no!
Poorly are ye?
‘Fraid so.


nostalgia
        suffer me
wanderlust
suffer me
insomnia
suffer me
loneliness
let me be



god
complex
mother
complex
father
complex
ego
complex

­

its complicated
im superior
its complicated
im inferior
its complicated
im a short man
got ingrown hairs
got a bad tan



im suffering
ocd
im suffering
obesity
im suffering
jealousy
xenophobia
and nosebleeds



stokholm
syndrome
toxic shock
syndrome
got it down
syndrome
irritable bowel
syndrome

yellow nail
syndrome
stevens-johnson
syndrome
restless leg
syndrome
shoulder-hand
syndrome

lambert-eaton
syndrome
mi­ddle-lobe
syndrome
mobius
syndrome
pickwickian
syndrome

post rubella
syndrome
riley day
syndrome
straight back
syndrome
ulysess
syndrome



alcoholics
we are prone
drug addicts
we are prone
mind benders
we are prone
fortune spenders
we are prone



My illness, my illness
My illness is my realness

*Pick it up
Tide it over
Fight it off or
Cave in

Save it
Suffer it
Pass it on
When its Raining

bleed him
restrain him
shave his
head

he went from being
quite well
to being quite
dead.
unfinished but did you bother to the end?
David Nelson  Jul 2013
Flied Lice
David Nelson Jul 2013
Flied Lice

she walk on hallowed glound
feet not touching down
whispeling sacled chants
to no one in palticulal
clashing down the sounds of violence
the echos of the voices linging
leaching over the liver to the folest
the encampment of wild eyes
watching the sky fol a signal
a signal of victoly
the dinnel has been plepaled
bling you chop sticks
hoolay for flied lice

Gomer LePoet ...
as reported to me by Hu Flung Dung
I. Song of the Beggars
"O for doors to be open and an invite with gilded edges
To dine with Lord Lobcock and Count Asthma on the platinum benches
With somersaults and fireworks, the roast and the smacking kisses"

Cried the cripples to the silent statue,
The six beggared cripples.
"And Garbo's and Cleopatra's wits to go astraying,
In a feather ocean with me to go fishing and playing,
Still jolly when the **** has burst himself with crowing"

Cried the cripples to the silent statue,
The six beggared cripples.
"And to stand on green turf among the craning yellow faces
Dependent on the chestnut, the sable, the Arabian horses,
And me with a magic crystal to foresee their places"

Cried the cripples to the silent statue,
The six beggared cripples.
"And this square to be a deck and these pigeons canvas to rig,
And to follow the delicious breeze like a tantony pig
To the shaded feverless islands where the melons are big"

Cried the cripples to the silent statue,
The six beggared cripples.
"And these shops to be turned to tulips in a garden bed,
And me with my crutch to thrash each merchant dead
As he pokes from a flower his bald and wicked head"

Cried the cripples to the silent statue,
The six beggared cripples.
"And a hole in the bottom of heaven, and Peter and Paul
And each smug surprised saint like parachutes to fall,
And every one-legged beggar to have no legs at all"

Cried the cripples to the silent statue,
The six beggared cripples.

Spring 1935

II.
O lurcher-loving collier, black as night,
Follow your love across the smokeless hill;
Your lamp is out, the cages are all still;
Course for heart and do not miss,
For Sunday soon is past and, Kate, fly not so fast,
For Monday comes when none may kiss:
Be marble to his soot, and to his black be white.

June 1935

III.
Let a florid music praise,
The flute and the trumpet,
Beauty's conquest of your face:
In that land of flesh and bone,
Where from citadels on high
Her imperial standards fly,
Let the hot sun
Shine on, shine on.

O but the unloved have had power,
The weeping and striking,
Always: time will bring their hour;
Their secretive children walk
Through your vigilance of breath
To unpardonable Death,
And my vows break
Before his look.

February 1936

IV.
Dear, though the night is gone,
Its dream still haunts today,
That brought us to a room
Cavernous, lofty as
A railway terminus,
And crowded in that gloom
Were beds, and we in one
In a far corner lay.

Our whisper woke no clocks,
We kissed and I was glad
At everything you did,
Indifferent to those
Who sat with hostile eyes
In pairs on every bed,
Arms round each other's necks
Inert and vaguely sad.

What hidden worm of guilt
Or what malignant doubt
Am I the victim of,
That you then, unabashed,
Did what I never wished,
Confessed another love;
And I, submissive, felt
Unwanted and went out.

March 1936

V.
Fish in the unruffled lakes
Their swarming colors wear,
Swans in the winter air
A white perfection have,
And the great lion walks
Through his innocent grove;
Lion, fish and swan
Act, and are gone
Upon Time's toppling wave.

We, till shadowed days are done,
We must weep and sing
Duty's conscious wrong,
The Devil in the clock,
The goodness carefully worn
For atonement or for luck;
We must lose our loves,
On each beast and bird that moves
Turn an envious look.

Sighs for folly done and said
Twist our narrow days,
But I must bless, I must praise
That you, my swan, who have
All the gifts that to the swan
Impulsive Nature gave,
The majesty and pride,
Last night should add
Your voluntary love.

March 1936

VI. Autumn Song
Now the leaves are falling fast,
Nurse's flowers will not last,
Nurses to their graves are gone,
But the prams go rolling on.

Whispering neighbors left and right
Daunt us from our true delight,
Able hands are forced to freeze
Derelict on lonely knees.

Close behind us on our track,
Dead in hundreds cry Alack,
Arms raised stiffly to reprove
In false attitudes of love.

Scrawny through a plundered wood,
Trolls run scolding for their food,
Owl and nightingale are dumb,
And the angel will not come.

Clear, unscalable, ahead
Rise the Mountains of Instead,
From whose cold, cascading streams
None may drink except in dreams.

March 1936

VII.
Underneath an abject willow,
Lover, sulk no more:
Act from thought should quickly follow.
What is thinking for?
Your unique and moping station
Proves you cold;
Stand up and fold
Your map of desolation.

Bells that toll across the meadows
From the sombre spire
Toll for these unloving shadows
Love does not require.
All that lives may love; why longer
Bow to loss
With arms across?
Strike and you shall conquer.

Geese in flocks above you flying.
Their direction know,
Icy brooks beneath you flowing,
To their ocean go.
Dark and dull is your distraction:
Walk then, come,
No longer numb
Into your satisfaction.

March 1936

VIII.
At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end,
The delicious story is ripe to tell the intimate friend;
Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire;
Still waters run deep, my friend, there's never smoke without fire.

Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links,
Behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks,
Under the look of fatigue, the attack of the migraine and the sigh
There is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.

For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up in the convent wall,
The scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall,
The croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
There is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this.

April 1936

IX.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

April 1936

X.
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; "O Johnny, let's play":
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Matinee Charity Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
"Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day":
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver or golden silk gown;
"O John I'm in heaven," I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
"O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey":
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.

April 1937

XI. Roman Wall Blues
Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.

The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.

Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.

Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.

She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.

When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

October 1937

XII.
Some say that love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world round,
And some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway-guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like classical stuff?
Does it stop when one wants to quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't ever there:
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn' in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
Or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories ****** but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on the door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

January 1938
Fleas, lice,
a horse peeing
    near my pillow.
Terry O'Leary  Sep 2013
NeverLand
Terry O'Leary Sep 2013
NOTE TO THE READER – Once Apun a Time

This yarn is a flossy fabric woven of several earlier warped works, lightly laced together, adorned with fur-ther braided tails of human frailty. The looms were loosed, purling frantically this febrile fable...

Some pearls may be found wanting – unwanted or unwonted – piled or hanging loose, dangling free within a fuzzy flight of fancy...

The threads of this untethered tissue may be fastened, or be forgotten, or else be stranded by the readers and left unravelling in the knotted corners of their minds...

'twill be perchance that some may  laugh or loll in loopy stitches, else be torn or ripped apart, while others might just simply say “ ’tis made of hole cloth”, “sew what” or “cant seam to get the needle point”...,

yes, a proper disentanglement may take you for a spin on twisted twines of any strings you feel might need attaching or detaching…

picking knits, some may think that
       such strange things ‘have Never happened in our Land’,
       such quaint things ‘could Never happen in our Land’’,
       such murky things ‘will Never happen in our Land’’…

and this may all be true, if credence be dis-carded…

such is that gooey gossamer which vails the human mind...

and thus was born the teasing title of this fabricated Fantasy...

                                NEVER LAND

An ancient man named Peter Pan, disguised but from the past,
with feathered cap and tunic wrap and sabre’s sailed his last.
Though fully grown, on dust he’s flown and perched upon a mast
atop the Walls around the sprawls, unvisited and vast -
and all the while with bitter smile he’s watching us aghast.

As day begins, a spindle spins, it weaves a wanton web;
like puckered prunes, like midday moons, like yesterday’s celebs,
we scrape and *****, we seldom hope - he watches while we ebb:

The ***** grinder preaches fine on Sunday afternoons -
he quotes from books but overlooks the Secrets Carved in Runes:
“You’ve tried and toyed, but can’t avoid or shun the pale monsoons,
it’s sink or swim as echoed dim in swinging door saloons”.
The laughingstocks are flinging rocks at ball-and-chained baboons.

While ghetto boys are looting toys preparing for their doom
and Mademoiselles are weaving shells on tapestries with looms,
Cathedral cats and rafter rats are peering in the room,
where ragged strangers stoop for change, for coppers in the gloom,
whose thoughts are more upon the doors of crypts in Christmas bloom,
and gold doubloons and silver spoons that tempt beyond the tomb.

Mid *** shots from vacant lots, that strike and ricochet
a painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy)’s on her way
to tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
and indiscreet upon the street she gives her pride away
to any guy who’s passing by with time and cash to pay.
(In concert halls beyond the Walls, unjaded girls ballet,
with flowered thoughts of Camelot and dreams of cabarets.)

Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a ****** titters twice,
and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.

The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.

A *** called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
“Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.”
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.

The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with ****.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
at least imbrue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.

The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey,
to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier.

Old Dan, he’s drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?”
“I’m feeling pain and crying rain and flailing in the flood
and no god’s there inclined to care I’m always coughing blood.”
The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud.

Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
“The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray
to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.”

A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry ***** -
she casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
then stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
the stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.

So Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood cling, splattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”

Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, *****, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.

Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
“She’ll burn in hell and sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.

Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.

The eyes behind the head inclined reflect a universe
of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
of ****** tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
while poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.

A sodden dreg with wooden leg is dancing for a dime
to sacred psalms and other balms, all ticking with the time.
He’s 22, he’s almost through, he’s melted in his prime,
his bane is firm, the canker worm dissolves his brain to slime.
With slanted scales and twisted jails, his life’s his only crime.

A beggar clump beside a dump has pencil box in hand.
With sightless eyes upon the skies he’s lying there unmanned,
with no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.
The backyard blight is hid from sight, it’s covered up and bland,
and Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.

While all night queens carve figurines in gelatine and jade,
behind a door and on the floor a deal is finally made;
the painted girl with flaxen curl has plied again her trade
and now the care within her stare has turned a darker shade.
Her lack of guile and parting smile are cutting like a blade.

Some boys with cheek play hide and seek within a house condemned,
their faces gaunt reflecting want that’s hard to comprehend.
With no excuse an old recluse is waiting to descend.
His eyes despair behind the stare, he’s never had a friend
to talk about his hidden doubt of how the world will end -
to die alone on empty throne and other Fates impend.

And soon the boys chase phantom joys and, presto when they’re gone,
the old recluse, with nimble noose and ****** features drawn,
no longer waits upon the Fates but yawns his final yawn
- like Tinker Bell, he spins a spell, in fairy dust chiffon -
with twisted brow, he’s tranquil now, he’s floating like a swan
and as he fades from life’s charades, the night awaits the dawn.

A boomerang with ebon fang is soaring through the air
to pierce and breach the heart of each and then is called despair.
And as it grows it will oppose and fester everywhere.
And yet the crop that’s at the top will still be unaware.

A lad is stopped by roving cops, who shoot in disregard.
His face is black, he’s on his back, a breeze is breathing hard,
he bleeds and dies, his mama cries, the screaming sky is scarred,
the sheriff and his squad at hand are laughing in the yard.

Now Railroad Bob’s done lost his job, he’s got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking.
The union man don’t give a ****, Big Brother lies a’ lurking,
the boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.

Bob walks the streets and begs for eats or little jobs for trying
“the answer’s no, you ought to know, no use for you applying,
and don’t be sad, it aint that bad, it’s soon your time for dying.”
The air is thick, his baby’s sick, the cries are multiplying.

Bob’s wife’s in town, she’s broken down, she’s ranting with a fury,
their baby coughs, the doctor scoffs, the snow flies all a’ flurry.
Hard work’s the sin that’s done them in, they skirmish, scrimp and scurry,
and midnight dreams abound with screams. Bob knows he needs to hurry.
It’s getting late, Bob’s tempting fate, his choices cruel and blurry;
he chooses gas, they breathe their last, there’s no more cause to worry.

Per protocols near ivied walls arrayed in sage festoons,
the Countess quips, while giving tips, to crimson caped buffoons:
“To rise from mass to upper class, like twirly bird tycoons,
you stretch the treat you always eat, with tiny tablespoons”

A learned leach begins to teach (with songs upon a liar):
“Within the thrall of Satan’s call to yield to dim desire
lie wicked lies that tantalize the flesh and blood Vampire;
abiding souls with self-control in everyday Hellfire
will rest assured, when once interred, in afterlife’s Empire”.
These words reweave the make believe, while slugs in salt expire,
baptised in tears and rampant fears, all mirrored in the mire.

It’s getting hot on private yachts, though far from desert plains -
“Well, come to think, we’ll have a drink”, Sir Captain Hook ordains.
Beyond the blame and pit of shame, outside the Walled domains,
they pet their pups and raise their cups, take sips of pale champagnes
to touch the tips of languid lips with pearls of purple rains.

Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,
be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins.
The ruling lot are in a spot, the boss man he complains:
“The gypsies’ soul, I can’t control, my patience wears and wanes;
they will not cede to common greed, which conquers far domains
and furtive spies and news that lies have barely baked their brains.
But in the court of last resort the final fix remains:
in boxcar bins with violins we’ll freight them out in trains
and in the bogs, they’ll die like dogs, and everybody gains
(should one ask why, a quick reply: ‘It’s that which God ordains!’)”

Arrayed in shawls with crystal *****, and gazing at the moons,
wiled women tease with melodies and spooky loony tunes
while making toasts to holey ghosts on rainy day lagoons:
“Well, here’s to you and others too, embedded in the dunes,
avoid the stares, avoid the snares, avoid the veiled typhoons
and fend your way as every day, ’gainst heavy heeled dragoons.”

The birds of pray are on their way, in every beak the Word
(of ptomaine tomes by gnarly gnomes) whose meaning is obscured;
they roost aloof on every roof, obscene but always herd,
to tell the tale of Jonah’s whale and other rhymes absurd
with shifty eyes, they’re giving whys for living life deferred.

While jackals lean, hyenas mean, and hungry crocodiles
feast in the lounge and never scrounge, lambs languish in the aisle.
The naive dare to say “Unfair, let’s try to reconcile.
We’ll all relax and weigh the facts, let justice spin the dial.”

With jaundiced monks and minds pre-shrunk, the jury is compiled.
The Rulers meet, First Ladies greet, the Kings appear in style.
Before the Court, their sins are short, they’re swept into a pile;
with diatribes and petty bribes, the jurors are beguiled.

The Herd entreats, the Shepherd bleats the verdict of the trial:
“You have no face. Stay in your place, stay in the Rank and File.
And wait instead, for when you’re dead, for riches after while”;
Aristocrats add caveats while sailing down the Nile:
“If Minds are mugged or simply drugged with philtres in a vial,
then few indeed will fail to feed the Pharaoh’s Crocodile.”
The wordsmiths spin, the bankers grin and politicians smile,
the riff and raff, they never laugh, they mark a martyred mile.

The rituals are finished, all, here comes the Reverent Priest.
He leads the crowds beneath the clouds, and there the flock is fleeced
(“the last are first, the rich are cursed” - the leached remain the least)
with crossing signs and ****** wines and consecrated yeast.
His step is gay without dismay before his evening feast;
he thanks the Lord for room and, bored, he nods to Eden East
but doesn’t sigh or wonder why the sins have not decreased.

The sinking sun’s at last undone, the sky glows faintly red.
A spider black hides in a crack and spins a silken thread
and babes will soon collapse and swoon, on curbs they call a bed;
with vacant eyes they'll fantasize and dream of gingerbread,
and so be freed, though still in need, from anguish of the dead.

Fat midnight bats feast, gnawing gnats, and flit away serene
while on the trails in distant dales the lonesome wolverine
sate appetites on foggy nights and days like crystalline.
A migrant feeds on gnats and weeds with fingers far from clean
and thereby’s blessed with barren breast (the easier to wean) -
her baby ***** an arid flux and fades away unseen.

The circus gongs excite the throngs in nighttime Never Land –
they swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
while Acrobats step pitapat across the shifting sands
and Lady Fat adores her cat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the band,
ask crimson Clowns with painted frowns, to lend a mutant hand,
while Tamers’ whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
lure minds entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents sell black tusk contraband
to Sycophants in regiments who overflow the stands,
but No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night’s demise, the dither dies, the lonely Crowd disbands,
down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their threadbare rags in strands,
and Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.

The Monk of Mock has fled the flock caught knocking up a tween.
(She brought to light the special rite he sought to leave unseen.)
With profaned eyes they agonise, their souls no more serene
and at the shrine the flutes of wine are filled with kerosene
by men unkempt who once had dreamt but now can dream no more
except when bellowed bellies belch an ever growing roar,
which churns the seas and whips a breeze that mercy can’t ignore,
and in the night, though filled with fright, they try to end the War.

The slow and quick are hurling bricks and fight with clubs of rage
to break the chains and cleanse the stains of life within a cage,
but yield to stings of armoured things that crush in every age.

At crack of dawn, a broken pawn, in pools of blood and fire,
attends the wounds, in blood festooned (the waves flow nigh and nigher),
while ghetto towns are burning down (the flames grow high and higher);
and in their wake, a golden snake is rising from the pyre.
Her knees are bare, consumed in prayer, applauded by the Friar,
and soon it’s clear the end is near - while magpie birds conspire,
the lowly worm is made to squirm while dangling from a wire.

The line was crossed, the battle lost, the losers can’t deny,
the residues are far and few, though smoke pervades the sky.
The cool wind’s cruel, a cutting tool, the vanquished ask it “Why?”,
and bittersweet, from  Easy Street, the Pashas’ puffed reply:
“The rules are set, so don’t forget, the rabble will comply;
the grapes of wrath may make you laugh, the day you are to die.”

The down and out, they knock about beneath the barren skies
where homeward bound, without a sound, a ravaged raven flies.
Beyond the Walls, the morning calls the newborn sun to rise,
and Peter Pan, a broken man, inclines his head and cries...

— The End —